AFTERMATH

Taranaki Daily News, 21 August 1915, Page 9

AFTERMATH

Yes he is gone—there is the messagesee? Slain by a Prussian bullet as he led The men that loved him—dying—cheered them on— My son--my eldest son. So be it, God! This is no time for tears—no time to mourn, Xo time for sombre draperies of woe. Let the aggressors weep! for they have sinned The sin of Satan—lust of power and prideMean envy of their neighbors' weal—a plot Hatched amidst glazing smiles and prate of peace Through the false years—until the Day —the Day When all this kneeling at the Devil's feet Shoujd win the world—Ay, let them weep! But we With eyes undimmed march on—our mourning robes Bc-jewelled by the deeds of those that die, Lustre on lustre—till no sa.blc patch Peeps through tiicir brililance.

In the years to eome When we have done our work, and God's own peace, The peace of Justice, Mercv, Righteousness, Like the still radiance of a summer's dawn, With tranquil glory floods a troubled world: Why, then, perhaps, in the old hall at home, Where once I dreamed my eldest born should stand The master, as I stand the master now, Our eyes, my wife, shall meet and gleam. and mark, Kite-bed on the walls in sanctity and pride, 'Hal's sword, Dick's medal, and tlie cross he won Vet never wore—that is the time for tearsDrawn from a well of love deep downdeep down, Deep as the mystery of immortal souls— I "at is the time for tears—not now—not now!