<html xmlns:tei="http://www.tei-c.org/ns/1.0"><body><h1 align="" class="head">At Sunset: September, 1917</h1><div class="stanza"><p class="line">O LIVING beauty of the dying day!</p><p class="line">All the ungathered splendour of the hours</p><p class="line">Is folded in your heart, as all the wealth</p><p class="line">Of June lies perfect in a crimson rose,</p></div><div class="stanza"><p class="line">We who, unheeding, watched the little pools</p><p class="line">Of rippling light that underlay the trees.</p><p class="line">And saw the clear young arrows shoot the gloom</p><p class="line">Of chambers darkly curtain'd with no surprise.</p><p class="line">Kneel to the regal miracle which lends</p><p class="line">To death the august mystery life forbade.</p></div><div class="stanza"><p class="line">And now upon these fields are gathered up</p><p class="line">In one great blood-red rose of sacrifice</p><p class="line">All unremembered buds of love and faith</p><p class="line">That shy young lives erst offered Freedom's crowns</p><p class="line">And to this fierce consuming altar fire.</p><p class="line">That speaks a God-ward world in tongues of flame.</p><p class="line">Each spark of heart's devotion lends its strength.</p><p class="line">Each candle-point of truth its warmth and light.</p></div></body></html> · Great War