P O E T R Y.
SONGS OF THE ROAD.
I.
His song of dawn outsoara the joyful bird, Swift on the weary road his footfall comes; The dusty air that by his stride is stirred
Beats with a buoyant march of fairy drums. "Awake, 0 Earth ! thine ancient slumber break ;
To the new day, 0 slumbrous Earth, awake!"
Yet long ago that merry march began,
His feet are older than the path they tread ; His music is the morning-song of man,
His stride the stride of all the valiant dead; His youngest hopes are memories, and his eyes Deep with the old, old dream that never dies.
H.
Turn back, my Soul, no longer set Thy peace upon the years to come: Turn back, the land of thy regret Holds nothing doubtful, nothing dumb.
There are the voices, there the scenes That make thy life in living truth A tale of heroes and of queens, Fairer than all the hopes of youth.
HENRY NEWBOLT.
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