



Produced by Al Haines









CARRY ON!


By VIRNA SHEARD



  PUBLISHED UNDER THE DISTINGUISHED
  PATRONAGE OF THE IMPERIAL ORDER
  OF THE DAUGHTERS OF THE
  EMPIRE IN AID OF THE
  RED CROSS




TORONTO:

WARWICK BROS. & RUTTER, LIMITED

1917




COPYRIGHT, CANADA, 1917




ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

We acknowledge with thanks the kindness of _The Globe_, Toronto, for
permission to use Carry On, The Young Knights, The Watcher, October
Goes, Dreams, The Cry, A War Chant, To One Who Sleeps, The Requiem and
The Lament, to _Saturday Night_, Toronto, for permission to use Before
the Dawn, and to _The Canadian Magazine_ for permission to use When
Jonquils Blow.  The other poems have not hitherto been published.




CONTENTS

  Carry On
  The Young Knights
  The Shells
  The Watcher
  October Goes
  Dreams
  Before the Dawn
  Crosses
  The Cry
  A War Chant
  When Jonquils Blow
  To One Who Sleeps
  The Sea
  Comrades
  Requiem
  Lament




  CARRY ON!

  That all freedom may abide
    Carry on!
  For the brave who fought and died,
    Carry on!
  England's flag so long adored
    Is the banner of the Lord--
  His the cannon--His the sword--
    Carry on, and on!  Carry on!

  Through the night of death and tears,
    Carry on!
  Through the hour that scars and sears,
    Carry on!
  Legions in the flame-torn sky,--
    Armies that go reeling by,--
  Only once can each man die;
    Carry on!

  For the things you count the best,
    Carry on!
  Take love with you,--leave the rest--
    Carry on!
  Though the fight be short or long,
    Men of ours--O dear and strong--
  Yours will be the Victor's song,
    Carry on--and on!  Carry on!




  THE YOUNG KNIGHTS

  Now they remain to us forever young
    Who with such splendor gave their youth away;
  Perpetual Spring is their inheritance,
    Though they have lived in Flanders and in France
  A round of years, in one remembered day.

  They drained life's goblet as a joyous draught
    And left within the cup no bitter lees.
  Sweetly they answered to the King's behest,
    And gallantly fared forth upon a quest,
  Beset by foes on land and on the seas.

  So in the ancient world hath bloomed again
    The rose of old romance--red as of yore;
  The flower of high emprise hath whitely blown
    Above the graves of those we call our own,
  And we will know its fragrance evermore.

  Now if their deeds were written with the stars,
    In golden letters on the midnight sky
  They would not care.  They were so young, and dear,
    They loved the best the things that were most near,
  And gave no thought to glory far and high.

  They need no shafts of marble pure and cold--
    No painted windows radiantly bright;
  Across our hearts their names are carven deep--
    In waking dreams, and in the dreams of sleep,
  They bring us still ineffable delight.

  Methinks heaven's gates swing open very wide
   