Wouldst thou behold my features cleanse thy heart
Wash out the stains thy will impresses there
And as the clay-stamped images depart
Thou shalt behold my face how wondrous fair
How changed from that thine outward eye must see
It wears no form its searching glance can know
From flesh and blood it now has wrought it free
And in the spirit learns from Christ to grow
That which thou sowest is not that which springs
From the dead grain thou givest to the earth
Each moment's toil an added lustre brings
To deck the spirit when it springs to birth

They fought south of the Castle,
They died north of the wall.
They died in the moors and were not buried.
Their flesh was the food of crows.
"Tell the crows we are not afraid;
We have died in the moors and cannot be buried.
Crows, how can our bodies escape you?"
The waters flowed deep
And the rushes in the pool were dark.
The riders fought and were slain:
Their horses wander neighing.
By the bridge there was a house.
Was it south, was it north?
The harvest was never gathered.
How can we give you your offerings?
You served your Prince faithfully,

There's heaven above, and night by night
I look right through its gorgeous roof;
No suns and moons though e'er so bright
Avail to stop me; splendour-proof
I keep the broods of stars aloof:
For I intend to get to God,
For 'tis to God I speed so fast,
For in God's breast, my own abode,
Those shoals of dazzling glory passed,
I lay my spirit down at last.
I lie where I have always lain,
God smiles as he has always smiled;
Ere suns and moons could wax and wane,
Ere stars were thundergirt, or piled
The heavens, God thought on me his child;

There's a graveyard near the White House
Where the Unknown Soldier lies,
And the flowers there are sprinkled
With the tears from mother's eyes.

I stood there not so long ago
With roses for the brave,
And suddenly I heard a voice
Speak from out the grave:

“I am the Unknown Soldier,”
The spirit voice began,
“And I think I have the right
To ask some questions man to man.

“Are my buddies taken care of?
Was their victory so sweet?
Is that big reward you offered
Selling pencils on the street?

“Did they really win the freedom

There went most passionately to Life, Impellance,
And thrilled it with the high perception of divines;
And through a blight of gloom its request fought for
Heaven, its hospice, light, investure ante-natal,
And hope, impact of fathom, lucid suavity.

Sum speiks of Lords, sum speiks of Lairds,
And siclyke Men of hie Degrie,
Of a Gentleman I sing a Sang,
Sumtyme calld Laird of Gilnockie.
The King he wrytes a luving Letter
With his ain Hand sae tenderly,
And he hath sent it to Johny Armstrang,
To cum and speik with him speidily.

The Eliots and Armstrangs did convene;
They were a gallant Company:
Weill ryde and meit our lawful King,
And bring him safe to Gilnockie.
Make Kinnen and Capon ready then,
And Venison in great Plenty,
Weill welcome Hame our Royal King,

Suddenly I saw the cold and rook-delighting heaven
That seemed as though ice burned and was but the more ice,
And thereupon imagination and heart were driven
So wild that every casual thought of that and this
Vanished, and left but memories, that should be out of season,
With the hot blood of youth, of love crossed long ago;
And I took all the blame out of all sense and reason,
Until I cried and trembled and rocked to and fro
Riddled with light. Ah! when the ghost begins to quicken,
Confusion of the death-bed over, is it sent

The strong sob of the chafing stream
That seaward fights its way
Down crags of glitter, dells of gleam,
Is in the hills to-day.

But far and faint, a grey-winged form
Hangs where the wild lights wane--
The phantom of a bygone storm,
A ghost of wind and rain.

The soft white feet of afternoon
Are on the shining meads,
The breeze is as a pleasant tune
Amongst the happy reeds.

The fierce, disastrous, flying fire,
That made the great caves ring,
And scarred the slope, and broke the spire,
Is a forgotten thing.

Stand by the Flag! Its stars like meteors gleaming,
—Have lighted Arctic icebergs, southern seas,
And shone responsive to the stormy beaming
—Of old Arcturus and the Pleiades.

Stand by the Flag! Its stripes have streamed in glory,
—To foes a fear, to friends a festal robe,
And spread in rhythmic lines the sacred story
—Of Freedom's triumphs over all the globe.

Stand by the Flag! On land and ocean billow
—By it your fathers stood unmoved and true,
Living defended; dying, from their pillow,
—With their last blessing passed it on to you.

Space , and the twelve clean winds of heaven,
And this sharp exultation, like a cry, after the slow six thousand steps of climbing!
This is Tai Shan, the beautiful, the most holy.

Below my feet the foot-hills nestle, brown with flecks of green; and lower down the flat brown plain, the floor of earth, stretches away to blue infinity.
Beside me in this airy space the temple roofs cut their slow curves against the sky,
And one black bird circles above the void.

Space, and the twelve clean winds are here;