You will miss its stately lyric as it broke the mystic flight Of the wild wind-shattered tempest thro’ the solitudes of night; For the old elm tree is passing from the middle of the town, And the axes will not tarry till the old elm tree is down. ’Tis a century, they tell us, since it sprung up by the wall, Full of love for all God’s creatures, yet the old elm tree must fall; But its strong sap mounting skyward with its tidings of good will, With its sturdy flow of courage for a soul that’s standing still, Will forever thread my dreamings with the wonder unimpaired, And the spirit of devotion for its blessings I have shared. Yes, the robins, heavy-hearted, still their laughter for a day, And the orioles are weeping by the roadside down the way. AFTERWARD. Great God of storm and battle, We feel Thy clasping hand; Thy voice along the wilderness We hear and understand. The constellations hymn Thy praise; Thy glory crowns the day; Thine awful wrath, in swinging seas, Commands and we obey. The vanquished with the victors rest; They sleep on hill and plain; The heaven’s azure noon descends, And wraps as one the twain. In fondest brotherhood they share One common lot of land; Great God of storm and battle, We feel Thy clasping hand! How undiscerned Thy sovran laws, Thy wisdom how sublime; Thy torch of progress ever leads The flying march of Time; And though athwart the fiery track Contending armies fall, How soon the chastening blossoms come And smile above them all. Great God of storm and battle, We feel Thy clasping hand, The lightning is Thy chariot, We see and understand. The conquered and the conqueror, Each wears the hero’s star, Amidst his blood-stained wreath of thorns The iron wheels of war Are rusting in the mountain-side, By thick roots intertwined, Unmindful of the broken hearts Their madness left behind; While Peace, Thy benediction, With outspread wings hath spanned Our country; God of battles, We feel Thy clasping hand. “THE PILGRIM SPIRIT.” Its argent unassailed, Its purposes undimmed, Its soul a crystal-hearted star The conqueror hath rimmed With broken swords, a restless shape, Where birth and love are one, Where death lies dead and worlds divide, Still shoulders toward the sun. IN MEMORIAM. If from the crimson dust of war A new Republic rise, Still shall the martyr bleed Who made the sacrifice. The threnody from his dead lips Shall never, never die, Forever will his thorn-crowned head Be lifted to the sky. L’ ENVOI. No flag so spanned by Freedom’s stars, No hearthstone more a shrine, No latch-string graces wider doors, No warmer hearts than thine. Plymouth, 1921 TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES: Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_. Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.