POETRY.
And fire and steel have found you true ! Our stubborn patience did not tire Till all our brothers' hearts we knew. But three long years of battle leave The greater, nobler task undone : The gentle hands of Peace must weave Our warring nations into one.
We heard your voices in the hail That lashed Tugela's red ravine,
When 'mid the white smoke's shifting veil The flashes of your guns were seen.
Then through that shuddering, grey eclipse, And borne on leaping tongues of flame, From those ranged cannon's awful lips
Our brothers' stormy greeting came.
How far and how unreal seems The tale of that December day ! Dim as a sick man's troubled dreams The cheerful morning sweeps away. Swift as of old Tugela flows, But now with unpolluted tide ; And aim and green the valley shows Where our devoted heroes died.
So from our chastened hearts at last, The hates we deemed immortal fade ; And from the struggles of the past
Our future friendship shall be made—
Till Peace with gentle fingers end The task rough-handed War begun, And years of mutual service blend Our kindred races into one.
EDWARD SYDNEY TYLEE.
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