But this is better. Let him sleep Where sleep the men who made us free, For England's heart is in the deep, And England's glory is the sea. One only vow above his bier, One only oath beside his bed: We swear our flag shall shield him here Until the sea gives up its dead! Leap, waves of England! Boastful be, And fling defiance in the blast, For Earth is envious of the Sea Which shelters England's dead at last. ROBERT J. C. STEAD _From "Kitchener and Other Poems"--By permission of The Musson Book Company, Limited, Toronto_ KITCHENER'S MARCH Not the muffled drum for him Nor the wailing of the fife-- Trumpets blaring to the charge Were the music of his life. Let the music of his death Be the feet of marching men, Let his heart a thousandfold Take the field again. Of his patience, of his calm, Of his quiet faithfulness, England, build your hero's cairn! He was worthy of no less. Stone by stone, in silence laid, Singly, surely, let it grow. He whose living was to serve Would have had it so. There's a body drifting down For the mighty sea to keep. There's a spirit cannot die While one heart is left to leap In the land he gave his all, Steel alike to praise and hate. He has saved the life he spent-- Death has struck too late. Not the muffled drums for him Nor the wailing of the fife-- Trumpets blaring to the charge Were the music of his life. Let the music of his death Be the feet of marching men! Let his heart a thousandfold Take the field again! AMELIA JOSEPHINE BURR _From "Life and Living"--Copyright, 1916. By permission of the Publishers, George H. Doran Company_ THE CROWN OF EMPIRE O England of our Fathers And England of our Sons, Along the dark horizon line The day-dawn glory runs, For Empire has been ours of old And Empire ours shall be-- His grip is on the world to-day Whose grip is on the sea. O England of our Fathers And England of our Sons, Above the roar of battling hosts, The thunder of the guns, A Mother's voice was calling us, We heard it over-sea, The blood which thou didst give us Is the blood we spill for thee. O England of our Fathers And England of our Sons, Along the dark horizon-line The day-dawn glory runs, For golden Peace is drawing near, Her paths are on the sea,-- He grips the hearts of all mankind Who stands for Liberty. FREDERICK GEORGE SCOTT _From "In the Battle Silences"--By permission of the Author and The Musson Book Company, Limited, Toronto_ I HAVE A RENDEZVOUS WITH DEATH