ning dies.

Earth, and the snow-dimmed heights of air,
And water winding soft and fair
Through still sweet places, bright and bare,
By bent and byre,
Taught him what hearts within them were:
But his was fire.

THE COMMONWEAL

A SONG FOR UNIONISTS

Men, whose fathers braved the world in arms against our isles in
union,
Men, whose brothers met rebellion face to face,
Show the hearts ye have, if worthy long descent and high communion,
Show the spirits, if unbroken, of your race.

What are these that howl and hiss across the strait of westward
water?
What is he who floods our ears with speech in flood?
See the long tongue lick the dripping hand that smokes and reeks of
slaughter!
See the man of words embrace the man of blood!

Hear the plea whereby the tonguester mocks and charms the gazing
gaper--
"We are they whose works are works of love and peace;
Till disunion bring forth union, what is union, sirs, but paper?
Break and rend it, then shall trust and strength increase."

Who would fear to trust a double-faced but single-hearted dreamer,
Pure of purpose, clean of hand, and clear of guile?
"Life is well-nigh spent," he sighs; "you call me shuffler,
trickster, schemer?
I am old--when young men yell at me, I smile."

Many a year that priceless light of life has trembled, we remember,
On the platform of extinction--unextinct;
Many a month has been for him the long year's last--life's calm
December:
Can it be that he who said so, saying so, winked?

No; the lust of life, the thirst for work and days with work to do
in,
Drove and drives him down the road of splendid shame;
All is well, if o'er the monument recording England's ruin
Time shall read, inscribed in triumph, Gladstone's name.

Thieves and murderers, hands yet red with blood and tongues yet
black with lies,
Clap and clamour--"Parnell spurs his Gladstone well!"
Truth, unscared and undeluded by their praise or blame, replies--
"Is the goal of fraud and bloodshed heaven or hell?"

Old men eloquent, who truckle to the traitors of the time,
Love not office--power is no desire of theirs:
What if yesterday their hearts recoiled f