Poems

<h4><SPAN name="IN_MEMORIAM_PD" id="IN_MEMORIAM_PD"></SPAN>IN MEMORIAM P.D.</h4> <p><span class="font">NICE, JANUARY</span> 30, 1914.</p> <p>If any in an island cradle curled<br/> Of comfort, may make offerings to you,<br/> Who in the day of all denial blew<br/> A bugle through the blackness of the world,<br/> <br/> An English hand would touch your shroud, in trust<br/> That truth again be told in English speech.<br/> And we too yet may practise what we preach,<br/> Though it were practising the bayonet thrust.<br/> <br/> Cutting that giant neck from sand to sand,<br/> From sea to sea; it was a little thing<br/> Beside your sudden shout and sabre-swing<br/> That cut the throat of thieves in every land.<br/> <br/> Heed not if half-wits mock your broken blade:<br/> Mammon our master doeth all things ill.<br/> You are the Fool that charged a windmill. Still,<br/> The Miller is a Knave; and was afraid.<br/> <br/> Lay down your sword. Ruin will know her own.<br/> Let each small statesman sow his weak wild oat,<br/> Or turn his coat to decorate his coat,<br/> Or take the throne and perish by the throne.<br/> <br/> Lay down your sword. And let the White Flag fade<br/> To grey; and let the Red Flag fade to pink,<br/> For these that climb and climb; and cannot sink<br/> So deep as death and honour, D&eacute;roul&egrave;de.<br/> <br/><br/></p> <div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />