In the long, long toil and the strenuous fight

Of the human race to win its way

From the feudal darkness into the day
Of Freedom, Brotherhood, Equal Right,—
A name like a star, a name of light.
I give you France!

Give us a name to stir the blood

With a warmer glow and a swifter flood

5

10

At the touch of a courage that conquers fear,A name like the sound of a trumpet, clear, And silver-sweet, and iron-strong,

15

That calls three million men to their feet,
Ready to march, and steady to meet
The foes who threaten that name with wrong,-
A name that rings like a battle-song.
I give you France!

Give us a name to move the heart

20

With the strength that noble griefs impart,
A name that speaks of the blood outpoured
To save mankind from the sway of the sword,-
A name that calls on the world to share
In the burden of sacrificial strife

25

Where the cause at stake is the world's free life
And the rule of the people everywhere,—
A name like a vow, a name like a prayer.
I give you France!

30

Henry van Dyke.

PLACE DE LA CONCORDE

August 14, 1914.

(Since the bombardment of Strasbourg, August 14, 1870, her statue in Paris, representing Alsace, had been draped in mourning by the French people.)

NEAR where the royal victims fell

In days gone by, caught in the swell
Of a ruthless tide

Of human passion, deep and wide:
There where we two

A Nation's later sorrow knew-
To-day, O friend! I stood
Amid a self-ruled multitude

That by nor sound nor word

Betrayed how mightily its heart was stirred.

A memory Time never could efface

10

A memory of Grief

Like a great Silence brooded o'er the place;
And men breathed hard, as seeking for relief
From an emotion strong

15

That would not cry, though held in check too long.

One felt that joy drew near

A joy intense that seemed itself to fear

Brightening in eyes that had been dull,
As all with feeling gazed

20

Upon the Strasbourg figure, raised

Above us-mourning, beautiful!

Then one stood at the statue's base, and spoke

Men needed not to ask what word;

Each in his breast the message heard,

Writ for him by Despair,

That evermore in moving phrase

25

Breathes from the Invalides and Père Lachaise

Vainly it seemed, alas!

But now, France looking on the image there,

30

Hope gave her back the lost Alsace.

A deeper hush fell on the crowd:

A sound-the lightest-seemed too loud
(Would, friend, you had been there!)

As to that form the speaker rose,
Took from her, fold on fold,

The mournful crape, gray-worn and old,
Her, proudly, to disclose,

And with the touch of tender care

That fond emotion speaks,

'Mid tears that none could quite command,

Placed the Tricolor in her hand,

And kissed her on both cheeks!

35

40

Florence Earle Coates.

1914

V

THE SOLDIER

If I should die, think only this of me;
That there's some corner of a foreign field
That is forever England. There shall be
In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;
A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,
Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam;
A body of England's, breathing English air,
Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.
And think, this heart, all evil shed away,
A pulse in the eternal mind, no less

7

Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given;

Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day;
And laughter learnt of friends; and gentleness,
In hearts at peace, under an English heaven. 14

Rupert Brooke

INDEX TO FIRST LINES

PARTS I-VI