"OH, I have known the dreams of youth

then what

The dead, long, useless years gave promise of;

Remnants I'll humbly gift thee—all I've got,

Which thy sweet thanks shall be the solace of."

Thus spake a restless mind all out of tune

With souls and thoughts the world could offer

him.

Thou know'st he thanked Thee, God, for War's

grand boon—

The end, the glory, England proffered him.

The sorrow of his going matters not;

Only the fierce high glow that in his heart

Lit up those remnants that a rifle shot

Filched from an England who was grieved to part.

Alway, the nobleness that England gives

Rescinds her royal gift—so England lives!