



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
    To welcome in a host so fair and strong;
  Perchance the unharmed angels as they sing,
    May envy these the battle-scars they bring,
  And sigh e'er they take up the triumph song!




  THE SHELLS

  O my brave heart!  O my strong heart!  My sweet heart and gay,
  The soul of me went with you the hour you marched away,
  For surely she is soulless, this woman white, and still,
  Who works with shining metal to make the things that kill.

  I tremble as I touch them,--so strange they are, and bright;
  Each one will be a comet to break the purple night.
  Grey Fear will ride before it, and Death will ride behind,
  The sound of it will deafen,--the light of it will blind!

  And whom it meets in passing, but God alone will know;
  Each one will blaze a trail in blood--will hew a road of woe;
  O when the fear is on me, my heart grows faint and cold:--
  I dare not think of what I do,--of what my fingers hold.

  Then sounds a Voice, "Arise, and make the weapons of the Lord!"
  "He rides upon the whirlwind!  He hath need of shell and sword!
  His army is a mighty host--the lovely and the strong,--
  They follow Him to battle, with trumpet and with Song!"

  O my brave heart!  My strong heart!  My sweet heart and dear,--
  'Tis not for me to falter,--'Tis not for me to fear--
  Across the utmost barrier--wherever you may be,--
  With joy unspent, and deathless, my soul will follow thee.




  THE WATCHER

  Little White Moon--Each night from Heaven you lean
  To watch the lonely Seas, and all the Earth between;--
  O little shining Moon!  What have you seen?--

  What have you seen upon the fields of France,
  Where through the drowsy grain, the gay red poppies dance,
  Unheeding splintered gun or broken lance?

  Deep in the green-wood, shadow-laced, and still,
  What is it you have found, by fern-bed and by rill?
  What by each hollow--and each little hill?--

  When o'er the sky the driven smoke-clouds flee,
  And through a dusky veil look down fearfully--
  What do you find adrift upon the sea?

  In the great mountains where the four winds blow,--
  Where the King's cavalry, and his foot-soldiers go--
  What have you seen beneath the shifting snow?

  Little white Moon!  So old,--so strangely bright--
  How could you still shine on, unless you knew some night
  Here in the world you watch, all would be right!




  OCTOBER GOES

  October goes, and its colors all pass:
  At dawn there's a silver film on the grass,
  And the reeds are shining as pipes of glass,

  But yesterweek where the