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THE RETURN
by Cox, Eleanor Rogers [ - ]

Golden through the golden morning,
Who is this that comes
With the pride of banners lifted,
With the roll of drums?
With the self-same triumph shining
In the ardent glance,
That divine, bright fate defiance
That you bore to France.
You! But o'er your grave in Flanders
Blow the winter gales;
Still for sorrow of your going
All life's laughter fails.
Borne on flutes of dawn the answer:
"O'er the foam's white track,
God's work done, so to our homeland
Comes her hosting back.
"Come the dead men with the live men
From the marshes far,
From the mounds in no man's valley,
Lit by cross nor star.
"Come to blend with hers the essence
Of their strength and pride,
All the radiance of the dreaming
For whose truth they died."
So the dead men with the live men
Pass, an hosting fair,
And the stone is rolled forever
From the soul's despair.
Eleanor Rogers Cox.

Source: Project Gutenberg

Source: Project Gutenberg