he earth for ore.
Ah, yet had one good soldier of the skies
Burst through the wrack reporting news of them,
How had we run and kissed his garment's hem!

Nay, but he came! Nay, but he stood and cried,
Panting with joy and the fierce fervent race,
"Arm, arm! for Christ returns!"--and all our pride,
Our ancient pride, answered that eager face:
"Repair His battlements!--Your Christ is near!"
And, half in dream, we raised the soldiers' cheer.

Far, as we flung that challenge, fled the ghosts--
Back, as we built, the obscene foe withdrew--
High to the song of hammers sang the hosts
Of Heaven--and lo! the daystar, and a new
Dawn with its chalice and its wind as wine;
And youth was hope, and life once more divine!

* * * * *

Day, and hot noon, and now the evening glow,
And 'neath our scaffolding the city spread
Twilit, with rain-wash'd roofs, and--hark!--below,
One late bell tolling. "Dead? Our Captain dead?"
Nay, here with us he fronts the westering sun
With shaded eyes and counts the wide fields won.

Aloft with us! And while another stone
Swings to its socket, haste with trowel and hod!
Win the old smile a moment ere, alone,
Soars the great soul to bear report to God.
Night falls; but thou, dear Captain, from thy star
Look down, behold how bravely goes the war!

II

A. B. D.

_Canon Residentiary and Precentor of Truro
December_ 1903

Many had builded, and, the building done,
Through our adorned gates with din
Came Prince and Priest, with pipe and clarion
Leading the right God in.

Yet, had the perfect temple quickened then
And whispered us between our song,
_"Give God the praise. To whom of living men
Shall next our thanks belong?"_

Then had the few, the very few, that wist
His Atlantean labour, swerved
Their eyes to seek, and in the triumph missed,
The man that most deserved.

He only of us was incorporate
In all that fabric; stone by stone
Had built his life in her, had made his fate