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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/9388-8.txt b/9388-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8bbac56 --- /dev/null +++ b/9388-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1508 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Red Flower, by Henry Van Dyke + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Red Flower + Poems Written in War Time + +Author: Henry Van Dyke + +Posting Date: August 31, 2012 [EBook #9388] +Release Date: November, 2005 +First Posted: September 28, 2003 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RED FLOWER *** + + + + +Produced by Ted Garvin, Tonya Allen and PG Distributed Proofreaders + + + + + + + + + +THE RED FLOWER + +POEMS WRITTEN IN WAR TIME + +BY +HENRY VAN DYKE +D.O.L. (OXON.) + + +1919 + + + +PREFACE + + +These are verses that came to me in this dreadful war time amid the cares +and labors of a heavy task. + +Two of the poems, "A Scrap of Paper" and "Stand Fast," were written in +1914 and bore the signature _Civis Americanus_--the use of my own +name at the time being impossible. Two others, "Lights Out" and "Remarks +about Kings," were read for me by Robert Underwood Johnson at the meeting +of the American Academy in Boston, November, 1915, at which I was unable +to be present. + +The rest of the verses were printed after I had resigned my diplomatic post +and was free to say what I thought and felt, without reserve. + +The "Interludes in Holland" are thoughts of the peaceful things that will +abide for all the world after we have won this war against war. + +SYLVANORA, October 1, 1917. + + + + +CONTENTS + + +PREMONITION + THE RED FLOWER (JUNE, 1914) + +THE TRIAL AS BY FIRE + A SCRAP OF PAPER + STAND FAST + LIGHTS OUT (1915) + REMARKS ABOUT KINGS + WAR-MUSIC + MIGHT AND RIGHT + THE PRICE OF PEACE + STORM-MUSIC + +FRANCE AND BELGIUM + THE BELLS OP MALINES (AUGUST 17, 1914) + THE NAME OF FRANCE + JEANNE D'ARC RETURNS (1914-1916) + +INTERLUDES IN HOLLAND + THE HEAVENLY HILLS OF HOLLAND + THE PROUD LADY + FLOOD-TIDE OF FLOWERS (IN HOLLAND) + +ENTER AMERICA + AMERICAN'S PROSPERITY + THE GLORY OF SHIPS + MARE LIBERUM + "LIBERTY ENLIGHTENING THE WORLD" + THE OXFORD THRUSHES (FEBRUARY, 1917) + HOMEWARD BOUND + + + + +PREMONITION + + + + + THE RED FLOWER + + June 1914 + + + In the pleasant time of Pentecost, + By the little river Kyll, + I followed the angler's winding path + Or waded the stream at will. + And the friendly fertile German land + Lay round me green and still. + + But all day long on the eastern bank + Of the river cool and clear, + Where the curving track of the double rails + Was hardly seen though near, + The endless trains of German troops + Went rolling down to Trier. + + They packed the windows with bullet heads + And caps of hodden gray; + They laughed and sang and shouted loud + When the trains were brought to a stay; + They waved their hands and sang again + As they went on their iron way. + + No shadow fell on the smiling land, + No cloud arose in the sky; + I could hear the river's quiet tune + When the trains had rattled by; + But my heart sank low with a heavy sense + Of trouble,--I knew not why. + + Then came I into a certain field + Where the devil's paint-brush spread + 'Mid the gray and green of the rolling hills + A flaring splotch of red, + An evil omen, a bloody sign, + And a token of many dead. + + I saw in a vision the field-gray horde + Break forth at the devil's hour, + And trample the earth into crimson mud + In the rage of the Will to Power,-- + All this I dreamed in the valley of Kyll, + At the sign of the blood-red flower. + + + + + A SCRAP OF PAPER + + + "Will you go to war just for a scrap of paper?"--_Question of the + German Chancellor to the British Ambassador, August 3, 1914._ + + A mocking question! Britain's answer came + Swift as the light and searching as the flame. + + "Yes, for a scrap of paper we will fight + Till our last breath, and God defend the right! + + "A scrap of paper where a name is set + Is strong as duty's pledge and honor's debt. + + "A scrap of paper holds for man and wife + The sacrament of love, the bound of life. + + "A scrap of paper may be Holy Writ + With God's eternal word to hallow it. + + "A scrap of paper binds us both to stand + Defenders of a neutral neighbor land. + + "By God, by faith, by honor, yes! We fight + To keep our name upon that paper white." + + + September, 1914 + + + + + STAND FAST + + + Stand fast, Great Britain! + Together England, Scotland, Ireland stand + One in the faith that makes a mighty land, + True to the bond you gave and will not break + And fearless in the fight for conscience' sake! + Against Giant Robber clad in steel, + With blood of trampled Belgium on his heel, + Striding through France to strike you down at last, + Britain, stand fast! + + Stand fast, brave land! + The Huns are thundering toward the citadel; + They prate of Culture but their path is Hell; + Their light is darkness, and the bloody sword + They wield and worship is their only Lord. + O land where reason stands secure on right, + O land where freedom is the source of light, + Against the mailed Barbarians' deadly blast, + Britain, stand fast! + + Stand fast, dear land! + Thou island mother of a world-wide race, + Whose children speak thy tongue and love thy face, + Their hearts and hopes are with thee in the strife, + Their hands will break the sword that seeks thy life; + Fight on until the Teuton madness cease; + Fight bravely on, until the word of peace + Is spoken in the English tongue at last, + Britain, stand fast! + + + September, 1914. + + + + + LIGHTS OUT + + (1915) + + + "Lights out" along the land, + "Lights out" upon the sea. + The night must put her hiding hand + O'er peaceful towns where children sleep, + And peaceful ships that darkly creep + Across the waves, as if they were not free. + + The dragons of the air, + The hell-hounds of the deep, + Lurking and prowling everywhere, + Go forth to seek their helpless prey, + Not knowing whom they maim or slay-- + Mad harvesters, who care not what they reap. + + Out with the tranquil lights, + Out with the lights that burn + For love and law and human rights! + Set back the clock a thousand years: + All they have gained now disappears, + And the dark ages suddenly return. + + Kaiser who loosed wild death + And terror in the night + God grant you draw no quiet breath, + Until the madness you began + Is ended, and long-suffering man, + Set free from war lords, cries, "Let there be Light." + + + October, 1915. + + Read at the meeting of the American Academy, Boston, + November, 1915. + + + + + REMARKS ABOUT KINGS + + _God said, "I am tired of kings._"--EMERSON. + + + God said, "I am tired of kings,"-- + But that was a long time ago! + And meantime man said, "No, + I like their looks in their robes and rings." + So he crowned a few more, + And they went on playing the game as before + Fighting and spoiling things. + + Man said, "I am tired of kings! + Sons of the robber-chiefs of yore, + They make me pay for their lust and their war; + I am the puppet, they pull the strings; + The blood of my heart is the wine they drink. + I will govern myself for while I think, + And see what that brings!" + + Then God, who made the first remark, + Smiled in the dark. + + + Read at the meeting of the American Academy, Boston. + November, 1915. + + + + + WAR-MUSIC + + + Break off! Dance no more! + Danger is at the door. + Music is in arms. + To signal war's alarms, + + Hark, a sudden trumpet calling + Over the hill + Why are you calling, trumpet, calling? + What is your will? + + Men, men, men! + Men who are ready to fight + For their country's life, and the right. + Of a liberty-loving land to be + Free, free, free! + Free from a tyrant's chain, + Free from dishonor's stain, + Free to guard and maintain + All that her fathers fought for, + All that her sons have wrought for, + Resolute, brave, and free! + + Call again, trumpet, call again, + Call up the men! + Do you hear the storm of cheers + Mingled with the women's tears + And the tramp, tramp, tramp of marching feet? + Do you hear the throbbing drum + As the hosts of battle come + Keeping time, time, time to its beat? + O Music give a song + To make their spirit strong + For the fury of the tempest they must meet. + + The hoarse roar + Of the monster guns; + And the sharp bark + Of the lesser guns; + The whine of the shells, + The rifles' clatter + Where the bullets patter, + The rattle, rattle, rattle + Of the mitrailleuse in battle, + And the yells + Of the men who charge through hells + Where the poison gas descends. + And the bursting shrapnel rends + Limb from limb + In the dim + Chaos and clamor of the strife + Where no man thinks of his life + But only of fighting through, + Blindly fighting through, through! + + 'Tis done + At last! + The victory won, + The dissonance of warfare past! + + O Music mourn the dead + Whose loyal blood was shed, + And sound the taps for every hero slain; + Then lend into the song + That made their spirit strong, + And tell the world they did not die in vain. + + Thank God we can see, in the glory of morn, + The invincible flag that our fathers defended; + And our hearts can repeat what the heroes have sworn, + That war shall not end till the war-lust is ended, + Then the bloodthirsty sword shall no longer be lord + Of the nations oppressed by the conqueror's horde, + But the banners of freedom shall peacefully wave + O'er the world of the free and the lands of the brave. + + + May, 1916 + + + + + MIGHT AND RIGHT + + + If Might made Right, life were a wild-beasts' cage; + If Right made Might, this were the golden age; + But now, until we win the long campaign + Right must gain Might to conquer and to reign. + + + July 1, 1915. + + + + + THE PRICE OF PEACE + + + Peace without Justice is a low estate,-- + A coward cringing to an iron Fate! + But Peace through Justice is the great ideal,-- + We'll pay the price of war to make it real. + + December 28, 1916. + + + + + STORM MUSIC + + + O Music hast thou only heard + The laughing river, the singing bird, + The murmuring wind in the poplar-trees,-- + Nothing but Nature's melodies? + Nay, thou hearest all her tones, + As a Queen must hear! + Sounds of wrath and fear, + Mutterings, shouts, and moans, + Mildness, tumult, and despair,-- + All she has that shakes the air + With voices fierce and wild! + Thou art a Queen and not a dreaming child,-- + Put on thy crown and let us hear thee reign + Triumphant in a world of storm and strain! + + Echo the long-drawn sighs + Of the mounting wind in the pines; + And the sobs of the mounting waves that rise + In the dark of the troubled deep + To break on the beach in fiery lines. + Echo the far-off roll of thunder, + Rumbling loud + And ever louder, under + The blue-black curtain of cloud, + Where the lightning serpents gleam, + Echo the moaning + Of the forest in its sleep + Like a giant groaning + In the torment of a dream. + + Now an interval of quiet + For a moment holds the air + In the breathless hush + Of a silent prayer. + + Then the sudden rush + Of the rain, and the riot + Of the shrieking, tearing gale + Breaks loose in the night, + With a fusillade of hail! + Hear the forest fight, + With its tossing arms that crack and clash + In the thunder's cannonade, + While the lightning's forkèd flash + Brings the old hero-trees to the ground with a crash! + Hear the breakers' deepening roar, + Driven like a herd of cattle + In the wild stampede of battle, + Trampling, trampling, trampling, to overwhelm the shore. + + Is it the end of all? + Will the land crumble and fall? + Nay, for a voice replies + Out of the hidden skies, + "Thus far, O sea, shalt thou go, + So long, O wind, shalt thou blow: + Return to your bounds and cease, + And let the earth have peace!" + + O Music, lead the way-- + The stormy night is past, + Lift up our heads to greet the day, + And the joy of things that last. + + The dissonance and pain + That mortals must endure + Are changed in thine immortal strain + To something great and pure. + + True love will conquer strife, + And strength from conflict flows, + For discord is the thorn of life + And harmony the rose. + + + May, 1916. + + + + + + FRANCE AND BELGIUM + + + + + THE BELLS OF MALINES + + AUGUST 17, 1914 + + + The gabled roofs of old Malines + Are russet red and gray and green, + And o'er them in the sunset hour + Looms, dark and huge, St. Rombold's tower. + High in that rugged nest concealed, + The sweetest bells that ever pealed, + The deepest bells that ever rung, + The lightest bells that ever sung, + Are waiting for the master's hand + To fling their music o'er the land. + + And shall they ring to-night, Malines? + In nineteen hundred and fourteen, + The frightful year, the year of woe, + When fire and blood and rapine flow + Across the land from lost Liége, + Storm-driven by the German rage? + The other carillons have ceased; + Fallen is Hasselt, fallen Diesl, + From Ghent and Bruges no voices come, + Antwerp is silent, Brussels dumb! + + But in thy belfry, O Malines, + The master of the bells unseen + Has climbed to where the keyboard stands,-- + To-night his heart is in his hands! + Once more, before invasion's hell + Breaks round the tower he loves so well, + Once more he strikes the well-worn keys, + And sends aërial harmonies + Far-floating through the twilight dim + In patriot song and holy hymn. + + O listen, burghers of Malines! + Soldier and workman, pale béguine. + And mother with a trembling flock + Of children clinging to thy frock,-- + Look up and listen, listen all! + What tunes are these that gently fall + Around you like a benison? + "The Flemish Lion," "Brabançonne," + "O brave Liége," and all the airs + That Belgium in her bosom bears. + + Ring up, ye silvery octaves high, + Whose notes like circling swallows fly; + And ring, each old sonorous bell,-- + "Jesu," "Maria," "Michaël!" + Weave in and out, and high and low, + The magic music that you know, + And let it float and flutter down + To cheer the heart of the troubled town. + Ring out, "Salvator," lord of all,-- + "Roland" in Ghent may hear thee call! + + O brave bell-music of Malines, + In this dark hour how much you mean! + The dreadful night of blood and tears + Sweeps down on Belgium, but she hears + Deep in her heart the melody + Of songs she learned when she was free. + She will not falter, faint, nor fail, + But fight until her rights prevail + And all her ancient belfries ring + "The Flemish Lion," "God Save the King!" + + + + + THE NAME OF FRANCE + + + Give us a name to fill the mind + With the shining thoughts that lead mankind, + The glory of learning, the joy of art,-- + A name that tells of a splendid part. + In long, long toil and the strenuous fight + Of the human race to win its way + From the feudal darkness into the day + Of Freedom, Brotherhood, Equal Right,-- + A name like a star, a name of light. + I give you _France_! + + Give us a name to stir the blood + With a warmer glow and a swifter flood, + At the touch of a courage that knows not fear,-- + A name like the sound of a trumpet, clear. + And silver-sweet, and iron-strong, + That calls three million men to their feet, + Ready to march, and steady to meet + The foes who threaten that name with wrong,-- + A name that rings like a battle-song. + I give you _France_! + + Give us a name to move the heart + With the strength that noble griefs impart, + A name that speaks of the blood outpoured + To save mankind from the sway of the sword,-- + A name that calls on the world to share + In the burden of sacrificial strife + When the cause at stake is the world's free life + And the rule of the people everywhere,-- + A name like a vow, a name like a prayer. + I give you _France_! + + The Hague, September, 1916. + + + + + JEANNE D'ARC RETURNS + + 1914 1916 + + + What hast thou done, O womanhood of France, + Mother and daughter, sister, sweetheart, wife, + What hast thou done, amid this fateful strife, + To prove the pride of thine inheritance. + In this fair land of freedom and romance? + I hear thy voice with tears and courage rife,-- + Smiling against the swords that seek thy life-- + Make answer in a noble utterance: + "I give France all I have, and all she asks. + Would it were more! Ah, let her ask and take; + My hands to nurse her wounded, do her tasks,-- + My feet to run her errands through the dark,-- + My heart to bleed in triumph for her sake,-- + And all my soul to follow thee, Jeanne d'Arc!" + + + April 16, 1916. + + + + + INTERLUDES IN HOLLAND + + + + + THE HEAVENLY HILLS OF HOLLAND + + + The heavenly hills of Holland,-- + How wondrously they rise + Above the smooth green pastures + Into the azure skies! + With blue and purple hollows, + With peaks of dazzling snow, + Along the far horizon + The clouds are marching slow, + + No mortal fool has trodden + The summits of that range, + Nor walked those mystic valleys + Whose colors ever change; + Yet we possess their beauty, + And visit them in dreams, + While the ruddy gold of sunset + From cliff and canyon gleams. + + In days of cloudless weather + They melt into the light; + When fog and mist surround us + They're hidden from our sight; + But when returns a season + Clear shining after rain, + While the northwest wind is blowing, + We see the hills again. + + The old Dutch painters loved them, + Their pictures show them clear,-- + Old Hobbema and Ruysduel, + Van Goyen and Vermeer, + Above the level landscape, + Rich polders, long-armed mills, + Canals and ancient cities,-- + Float Holland's heavenly hills. + + + The Hague, November, 1916. + + + + + THE PROUD LADY + + + When Stävoren town was in its prime + And queened the Zuyder Zee, + Its ships went out to every clime + With costly merchantry. + + A lady dwelt in that rich town, + The fairest in all the land; + She walked abroad in a velvet gown, + With many rings on her hand. + + Her hair was bright as the beaten gold, + Her lips as coral red, + Her roving eyes were blue and bold, + And her heart with pride was fed. + + For she was proud of her father's ships, + As she watched them gayly pass; + And pride looked out of her eyes and lips + When she saw herself in the glass. + + "Now come," she said to the captains ten, + Who were ready to put to sea, + "Ye are all my men and my father's men, + And what will ye do for me?" + + "Go north and south, go east and west, + And get me gifts," she said. + "And he who bringeth me home the best, + With that man will I wed." + + So they all fared forth, and sought with care + In many a famous mart, + For satins and silks and jewels rare, + To win that lady's heart. + + She looked at them all with never a thought + And careless put them by; + "I am not fain of the things ye brought, + Enough of these have I." + + The last that came was the head of the fleet, + His name was Jan Borel; + He bent his knee at the lady's feet,-- + In truth he loved her well. + + "I've brought thee home the best i' the world, + A shipful of Danzig corn!" + She stared at him long; her red lips curled, + Her blue eyes filled with scorn. + + "Now out on thee, thou feckless kerl, + A loon thou art," she said. + "Am I a starving beggar girl? + Shall I ever lack for bread?" + + "Go empty all thy sacks of grain + Into the nearest sea, + And never show thy face again + To make a mock of me." + + Young Jan Borel, he answered naught, + But in the harbor cast + The sacks of golden corn he brought, + And groaned when fell the last. + + Then Jan Borel, he hoisted sail, + And out to sea he bore; + He passed the Helder in a gale + And came again no more. + + But the grains of corn went drifting down + Like devil-scattered seed, + To sow the harbor of the town + With a wicked growth of weed. + + The roots were thick and the silt and sand + Were gathered day by day, + Till not a furlong out from land + A shoal had barred the way. + + Then Stävoren town saw evil years, + No ships could out or in. + The boats lay rolling at the piers, + And the mouldy grain in the bin. + + The grass-grown streets were all forlorn, + The town in ruin stood, + The lady's velvet gown was torn, + Her rings were sold for food. + + Her father had perished long ago, + But the lady held her pride. + She walked with a scornful step and slow, + Till at last in her rags she died. + + Yet still on the crumbling piers of the town, + When the midnight moon shines free, + A woman walks in a velvet gown + And scatters corn in the sea. + + + + + FLOOD-TIDE OF FLOWERS + + IN HOLLAND + + + The laggard winter ebbed so slow + With freezing rain and melting snow, + It seemed as if the earth would stay + Forever where the tide was low, + In sodden green and watery gray. + + But now from depths beyond our sight, + The tide is turning in the night, + And floods of color long concealed + Come silent rising toward the light, + Through garden bare and empty field. + + And first, along the sheltered nooks, + The crocus runs in little brooks + Of joyance, till by light made bold + They show the gladness of their looks + In shining pools of white and gold. + + The tiny scilla, sapphire blue, + Is gently sweeping in, to strew + The earth with heaven; and sudden rills + Of sunlit yellow, sweeping through, + Spread into lakes of daffodils. + + The hyacinths, with fragrant heads, + Have overflowed their sandy beds, + And fill the earth with faint perfume, + The breath that Spring around her sheds. + And now the tulips break in bloom! + + A sea, a rainbow-tinted sea, + A splendor and a mystery, + Floods o'er the fields of faded gray: + The roads are full of folks in glee, + For lo,--to-day is Easter Day! + + + April, 1916. + + + + + ENTER AMERICA + + + + + AMERICA'S PROSPERITY + + + They tell me thou art rich, my country: gold + In glittering flood has poured into thy chest; + Thy flocks and herds increase, thy barns are pressed + With harvest, and thy stores can hardly hold + Their merchandise; unending trains are rolled + Along thy network rails of East and West; + Thy factories and forges never rest; + Thou art enriched in all things bought and sold! + + But dost _thou_ prosper? Better news I crave. + O dearest country, is it well with thee + Indeed, and is thy soul in health? + A nobler people, hearts more wisely brave, + And thoughts that lift men up and make them free.-- + These are prosperity and vital wealth! + + + The Hague, October 1, 1916. + + + + + THE GLORY OF SHIPS + + + The glory of ships is an old, old song, + since the days when the sea-rovers ran + In their open boats through the roaring surf, + and the spread of the world began; + The glory of ships is a light on the sea, + and a star in the story of man. + + When Homer sang of the galleys of Greece + that conquered the Trojan shore, + And Solomon lauded the barks of Tyre that + brought great wealth to his door, + 'Twas little they knew, those ancient men, + what would come of the sail and the oar. + + The Greek ships rescued the West from the East, + when they harried the Persians home; + And the Roman ships were the wings of strength + that bore up the empire, Rome; + And the ships or Spain found a wide new world + far over the fields of foam. + + Then the tribes of courage at last saw clear + that the ocean was not a bound, + But a broad highway, and a challenge to seek + for treasure as yet unfound; + So the fearless ships fared forth to the search, + in joy that the globe was round. + + Their hulls were heightened, their sails spread out. + they grew with the growth of their quest; + They opened the secret doors of the East, + and the golden gates of the West; + And many a city of high renown + was proud of a ship on its crest. + + The fleets of England and Holland and France + were at strife with each other and Spain; + And battle and storm sent a myriad ships + to sleep in the depths of the main; + But the seafaring spirit could never be drowned, + and it filled up the fleets again. + + They greatened and grew, with the aid of steam, + to a wonderful, vast array, + That carries the thoughts and the traffic of men + into every harbor and bay; + And now in the world-wide work of the ships + 'tis England that leads the way. + + O well for the leading that follows the law + of a common right on the sea! + But ill for the leader who tries to hold + what belongs to mankind in fee! + The way of the ships is an open way, + and the ocean must ever be free! + + Remember, O first of the maritime folk, + how the rise of your greatness began. + It will live if you safeguard the round-the-world road + from the shame of a selfish ban; + For the glory of ships is a light on the sea, + and a star in the story of man! + + + September 12, 1916. + + + + + MARE LIBERUM + + + I + + You dare to say with perjured lips, + "We fight to make the ocean free"? + _You_, whose black trail of butchered ships + Bestrews the bed of every sea + Where German submarines have wrought + Their horrors! Have you never thought,-- + What you call freedom, men call piracy! + + + II + + Unnumbered ghosts that haunt the wave, + Where you have murdered, cry you down; + And seamen whom you would not save, + Weave now in weed grown depths a crown + Of shame for your imperious head,-- + A dark memorial of the dead,-- + Women and children whom you sent to drown. + + + III + + Nay, not till thieves are set to guard + The gold, and corsairs called to keep + O'er peaceful commerce watch and ward + And wolves do herd the helpless sheep, + Shall men and women look to thee, + Thou ruthless Old Man of the Sea, + To safeguard law and freedom on the deep! + + + IV + + In nobler breeds we put our trust; + The nations in whose sacred lore + The "Ought" stands out above the "Must," + And honor rules in peace and war. + With these we hold in soul and heart, + With these we choose our lot and part, + Till Liberty is safe on sea and shore. + + + _London Times_, February 12, 1917. + + + + + "LIBERTY ENLIGHTENING THE WORLD" + + + Thou warden of the western gate, above Manhattan Bay, + The fogs of doubt that hid thy face are driven clean away: + Thine eyes at last look far and clear, thou liftest high thy hand + To spread the light of liberty world-wide for every land. + + No more thou dreamest of a peace reserved alone for thee, + While friends are fighting for thy cause beyond the guardian sea; + The battle that they wage is thine; thou fallest if they fall; + The swollen flood of Prussian pride will sweep unchecked o'er all. + + O cruel is the conquer-lust in Hohenzollern brains; + The paths they plot to gain their goal are dark with shameful stains: + No faith they keep, no law revere, no god but naked Might;-- + They are the foemen of mankind. Up, Liberty; and smite! + + Britain, and France, and Italy, and Russia newly born, + Have waited for thee in the night. Oh, come as comes the morn! + Serene and strong and full of faith, America, arise, + With steady hope and mighty help to join thy brave Allies. + + O dearest country of my heart, home of the high desire, + Make clean thy soul for sacrifice on Freedom's altar-fire; + For thou must suffer, thou must fight, until the war-lords cease, + And all the peoples lift their heads in liberty and peace. + + + _London Times_, April 12, 1917. + + + + + THE OXFORD THRUSHES + + FEBRUARY, 1917 + + + I never thought again to hear + The Oxford thrushes singing clear, + Amid the February rain, + Their sweet, indomitable strain. + + A wintry vapor lightly spreads + Among the trees, and round the beds + Where daffodil and jonquil sleep, + Only the snowdrop wakes to weep. + + It is not springtime yet. Alas, + What dark, tempestuous days must pass, + Till England's trial by battle cease, + And summer comes again with peace. + + The lofty halls, the tranquil towers, + Where Learning in untroubled hours + Held her high court, serene in fame, + Are lovely still, yet not the same. + + The novices in fluttering gown + No longer fill the ancient town, + But fighting men in khaki drest-- + And in the Schools the wounded rest. + + Ah, far away, 'neath stranger skies + Full many a son of Oxford lies, + And whispers from his warrior grave, + "I died to keep the faith you gave." + + The mother mourns, but does not fail, + Her courage and her love prevail + O'er sorrow, and her spirit hears + The promise of triumphant years. + + Then sing, ye thrushes, in the rain + Your sweet, indomitable strain. + Ye bring a word from God on high + And voices in our hearts reply. + + + + + HOMEWARD BOUND + + + Home, for my heart still calls me; + Home, through the danger zone; + Home, whatever befalls me, + I will sail again to my own! + + Wolves of the sea are hiding + Closely along the way, + Under the water biding + Their moment to rend and slay. + + Black is the eagle that brands them, + Black are their hearts as the night, + Black is the hate that sends them + To murder but not to fight. + + Flower of the German Culture, + Boast of the Kaiser's Marine, + Choose for your emblem the vulture, + Cowardly, cruel, obscene! + + Forth from her sheltered haven + Our peaceful ship glides slow, + Noiseless in flight as a raven, + Gray as a hoodie crow. + + She doubles and turns in her bearing, + Like a twisting plover she goes; + The way of her westward faring + Only the captain knows. + + In a lonely bay concealing + She lingers for days, and slips + At dusk from her covert, stealing + Thro' channels feared by the ships. + + Brave are the men, and steady, + Who guide her over the deep,-- + British mariners, ready + To face the sea-wolf's leap. + + Lord of the winds and waters, + Bring our ship to her mark, + Safe from this game of hide-and-seek + With murderers in the dark! + + + On the S.S. _Baltic_, May, 1917. + + + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Red Flower, by Henry Van Dyke + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RED FLOWER *** + +***** This file should be named 9388-8.txt or 9388-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/9/3/8/9388/ + +Produced by Ted Garvin, Tonya Allen and PG Distributed Proofreaders + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Red Flower + Poems Written in War Time + +Author: Henry Van Dyke + +Posting Date: August 31, 2012 [EBook #9388] +Release Date: November, 2005 +First Posted: September 28, 2003 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RED FLOWER *** + + + + +Produced by Ted Garvin, Tonya Allen and PG Distributed Proofreaders + + + + + + + + + +THE RED FLOWER + +POEMS WRITTEN IN WAR TIME + +BY +HENRY VAN DYKE +D.O.L. (OXON.) + + +1919 + + + +PREFACE + + +These are verses that came to me in this dreadful war time amid the cares +and labors of a heavy task. + +Two of the poems, "A Scrap of Paper" and "Stand Fast," were written in +1914 and bore the signature _Civis Americanus_--the use of my own +name at the time being impossible. Two others, "Lights Out" and "Remarks +about Kings," were read for me by Robert Underwood Johnson at the meeting +of the American Academy in Boston, November, 1915, at which I was unable +to be present. + +The rest of the verses were printed after I had resigned my diplomatic post +and was free to say what I thought and felt, without reserve. + +The "Interludes in Holland" are thoughts of the peaceful things that will +abide for all the world after we have won this war against war. + +SYLVANORA, October 1, 1917. + + + + +CONTENTS + + +PREMONITION + THE RED FLOWER (JUNE, 1914) + +THE TRIAL AS BY FIRE + A SCRAP OF PAPER + STAND FAST + LIGHTS OUT (1915) + REMARKS ABOUT KINGS + WAR-MUSIC + MIGHT AND RIGHT + THE PRICE OF PEACE + STORM-MUSIC + +FRANCE AND BELGIUM + THE BELLS OP MALINES (AUGUST 17, 1914) + THE NAME OF FRANCE + JEANNE D'ARC RETURNS (1914-1916) + +INTERLUDES IN HOLLAND + THE HEAVENLY HILLS OF HOLLAND + THE PROUD LADY + FLOOD-TIDE OF FLOWERS (IN HOLLAND) + +ENTER AMERICA + AMERICAN'S PROSPERITY + THE GLORY OF SHIPS + MARE LIBERUM + "LIBERTY ENLIGHTENING THE WORLD" + THE OXFORD THRUSHES (FEBRUARY, 1917) + HOMEWARD BOUND + + + + +PREMONITION + + + + + THE RED FLOWER + + June 1914 + + + In the pleasant time of Pentecost, + By the little river Kyll, + I followed the angler's winding path + Or waded the stream at will. + And the friendly fertile German land + Lay round me green and still. + + But all day long on the eastern bank + Of the river cool and clear, + Where the curving track of the double rails + Was hardly seen though near, + The endless trains of German troops + Went rolling down to Trier. + + They packed the windows with bullet heads + And caps of hodden gray; + They laughed and sang and shouted loud + When the trains were brought to a stay; + They waved their hands and sang again + As they went on their iron way. + + No shadow fell on the smiling land, + No cloud arose in the sky; + I could hear the river's quiet tune + When the trains had rattled by; + But my heart sank low with a heavy sense + Of trouble,--I knew not why. + + Then came I into a certain field + Where the devil's paint-brush spread + 'Mid the gray and green of the rolling hills + A flaring splotch of red, + An evil omen, a bloody sign, + And a token of many dead. + + I saw in a vision the field-gray horde + Break forth at the devil's hour, + And trample the earth into crimson mud + In the rage of the Will to Power,-- + All this I dreamed in the valley of Kyll, + At the sign of the blood-red flower. + + + + + A SCRAP OF PAPER + + + "Will you go to war just for a scrap of paper?"--_Question of the + German Chancellor to the British Ambassador, August 3, 1914._ + + A mocking question! Britain's answer came + Swift as the light and searching as the flame. + + "Yes, for a scrap of paper we will fight + Till our last breath, and God defend the right! + + "A scrap of paper where a name is set + Is strong as duty's pledge and honor's debt. + + "A scrap of paper holds for man and wife + The sacrament of love, the bound of life. + + "A scrap of paper may be Holy Writ + With God's eternal word to hallow it. + + "A scrap of paper binds us both to stand + Defenders of a neutral neighbor land. + + "By God, by faith, by honor, yes! We fight + To keep our name upon that paper white." + + + September, 1914 + + + + + STAND FAST + + + Stand fast, Great Britain! + Together England, Scotland, Ireland stand + One in the faith that makes a mighty land, + True to the bond you gave and will not break + And fearless in the fight for conscience' sake! + Against Giant Robber clad in steel, + With blood of trampled Belgium on his heel, + Striding through France to strike you down at last, + Britain, stand fast! + + Stand fast, brave land! + The Huns are thundering toward the citadel; + They prate of Culture but their path is Hell; + Their light is darkness, and the bloody sword + They wield and worship is their only Lord. + O land where reason stands secure on right, + O land where freedom is the source of light, + Against the mailed Barbarians' deadly blast, + Britain, stand fast! + + Stand fast, dear land! + Thou island mother of a world-wide race, + Whose children speak thy tongue and love thy face, + Their hearts and hopes are with thee in the strife, + Their hands will break the sword that seeks thy life; + Fight on until the Teuton madness cease; + Fight bravely on, until the word of peace + Is spoken in the English tongue at last, + Britain, stand fast! + + + September, 1914. + + + + + LIGHTS OUT + + (1915) + + + "Lights out" along the land, + "Lights out" upon the sea. + The night must put her hiding hand + O'er peaceful towns where children sleep, + And peaceful ships that darkly creep + Across the waves, as if they were not free. + + The dragons of the air, + The hell-hounds of the deep, + Lurking and prowling everywhere, + Go forth to seek their helpless prey, + Not knowing whom they maim or slay-- + Mad harvesters, who care not what they reap. + + Out with the tranquil lights, + Out with the lights that burn + For love and law and human rights! + Set back the clock a thousand years: + All they have gained now disappears, + And the dark ages suddenly return. + + Kaiser who loosed wild death + And terror in the night + God grant you draw no quiet breath, + Until the madness you began + Is ended, and long-suffering man, + Set free from war lords, cries, "Let there be Light." + + + October, 1915. + + Read at the meeting of the American Academy, Boston, + November, 1915. + + + + + REMARKS ABOUT KINGS + + _God said, "I am tired of kings._"--EMERSON. + + + God said, "I am tired of kings,"-- + But that was a long time ago! + And meantime man said, "No, + I like their looks in their robes and rings." + So he crowned a few more, + And they went on playing the game as before + Fighting and spoiling things. + + Man said, "I am tired of kings! + Sons of the robber-chiefs of yore, + They make me pay for their lust and their war; + I am the puppet, they pull the strings; + The blood of my heart is the wine they drink. + I will govern myself for while I think, + And see what that brings!" + + Then God, who made the first remark, + Smiled in the dark. + + + Read at the meeting of the American Academy, Boston. + November, 1915. + + + + + WAR-MUSIC + + + Break off! Dance no more! + Danger is at the door. + Music is in arms. + To signal war's alarms, + + Hark, a sudden trumpet calling + Over the hill + Why are you calling, trumpet, calling? + What is your will? + + Men, men, men! + Men who are ready to fight + For their country's life, and the right. + Of a liberty-loving land to be + Free, free, free! + Free from a tyrant's chain, + Free from dishonor's stain, + Free to guard and maintain + All that her fathers fought for, + All that her sons have wrought for, + Resolute, brave, and free! + + Call again, trumpet, call again, + Call up the men! + Do you hear the storm of cheers + Mingled with the women's tears + And the tramp, tramp, tramp of marching feet? + Do you hear the throbbing drum + As the hosts of battle come + Keeping time, time, time to its beat? + O Music give a song + To make their spirit strong + For the fury of the tempest they must meet. + + The hoarse roar + Of the monster guns; + And the sharp bark + Of the lesser guns; + The whine of the shells, + The rifles' clatter + Where the bullets patter, + The rattle, rattle, rattle + Of the mitrailleuse in battle, + And the yells + Of the men who charge through hells + Where the poison gas descends. + And the bursting shrapnel rends + Limb from limb + In the dim + Chaos and clamor of the strife + Where no man thinks of his life + But only of fighting through, + Blindly fighting through, through! + + 'Tis done + At last! + The victory won, + The dissonance of warfare past! + + O Music mourn the dead + Whose loyal blood was shed, + And sound the taps for every hero slain; + Then lend into the song + That made their spirit strong, + And tell the world they did not die in vain. + + Thank God we can see, in the glory of morn, + The invincible flag that our fathers defended; + And our hearts can repeat what the heroes have sworn, + That war shall not end till the war-lust is ended, + Then the bloodthirsty sword shall no longer be lord + Of the nations oppressed by the conqueror's horde, + But the banners of freedom shall peacefully wave + O'er the world of the free and the lands of the brave. + + + May, 1916 + + + + + MIGHT AND RIGHT + + + If Might made Right, life were a wild-beasts' cage; + If Right made Might, this were the golden age; + But now, until we win the long campaign + Right must gain Might to conquer and to reign. + + + July 1, 1915. + + + + + THE PRICE OF PEACE + + + Peace without Justice is a low estate,-- + A coward cringing to an iron Fate! + But Peace through Justice is the great ideal,-- + We'll pay the price of war to make it real. + + December 28, 1916. + + + + + STORM MUSIC + + + O Music hast thou only heard + The laughing river, the singing bird, + The murmuring wind in the poplar-trees,-- + Nothing but Nature's melodies? + Nay, thou hearest all her tones, + As a Queen must hear! + Sounds of wrath and fear, + Mutterings, shouts, and moans, + Mildness, tumult, and despair,-- + All she has that shakes the air + With voices fierce and wild! + Thou art a Queen and not a dreaming child,-- + Put on thy crown and let us hear thee reign + Triumphant in a world of storm and strain! + + Echo the long-drawn sighs + Of the mounting wind in the pines; + And the sobs of the mounting waves that rise + In the dark of the troubled deep + To break on the beach in fiery lines. + Echo the far-off roll of thunder, + Rumbling loud + And ever louder, under + The blue-black curtain of cloud, + Where the lightning serpents gleam, + Echo the moaning + Of the forest in its sleep + Like a giant groaning + In the torment of a dream. + + Now an interval of quiet + For a moment holds the air + In the breathless hush + Of a silent prayer. + + Then the sudden rush + Of the rain, and the riot + Of the shrieking, tearing gale + Breaks loose in the night, + With a fusillade of hail! + Hear the forest fight, + With its tossing arms that crack and clash + In the thunder's cannonade, + While the lightning's forked flash + Brings the old hero-trees to the ground with a crash! + Hear the breakers' deepening roar, + Driven like a herd of cattle + In the wild stampede of battle, + Trampling, trampling, trampling, to overwhelm the shore. + + Is it the end of all? + Will the land crumble and fall? + Nay, for a voice replies + Out of the hidden skies, + "Thus far, O sea, shalt thou go, + So long, O wind, shalt thou blow: + Return to your bounds and cease, + And let the earth have peace!" + + O Music, lead the way-- + The stormy night is past, + Lift up our heads to greet the day, + And the joy of things that last. + + The dissonance and pain + That mortals must endure + Are changed in thine immortal strain + To something great and pure. + + True love will conquer strife, + And strength from conflict flows, + For discord is the thorn of life + And harmony the rose. + + + May, 1916. + + + + + + FRANCE AND BELGIUM + + + + + THE BELLS OF MALINES + + AUGUST 17, 1914 + + + The gabled roofs of old Malines + Are russet red and gray and green, + And o'er them in the sunset hour + Looms, dark and huge, St. Rombold's tower. + High in that rugged nest concealed, + The sweetest bells that ever pealed, + The deepest bells that ever rung, + The lightest bells that ever sung, + Are waiting for the master's hand + To fling their music o'er the land. + + And shall they ring to-night, Malines? + In nineteen hundred and fourteen, + The frightful year, the year of woe, + When fire and blood and rapine flow + Across the land from lost Liege, + Storm-driven by the German rage? + The other carillons have ceased; + Fallen is Hasselt, fallen Diesl, + From Ghent and Bruges no voices come, + Antwerp is silent, Brussels dumb! + + But in thy belfry, O Malines, + The master of the bells unseen + Has climbed to where the keyboard stands,-- + To-night his heart is in his hands! + Once more, before invasion's hell + Breaks round the tower he loves so well, + Once more he strikes the well-worn keys, + And sends aerial harmonies + Far-floating through the twilight dim + In patriot song and holy hymn. + + O listen, burghers of Malines! + Soldier and workman, pale beguine. + And mother with a trembling flock + Of children clinging to thy frock,-- + Look up and listen, listen all! + What tunes are these that gently fall + Around you like a benison? + "The Flemish Lion," "Brabanconne," + "O brave Liege," and all the airs + That Belgium in her bosom bears. + + Ring up, ye silvery octaves high, + Whose notes like circling swallows fly; + And ring, each old sonorous bell,-- + "Jesu," "Maria," "Michael!" + Weave in and out, and high and low, + The magic music that you know, + And let it float and flutter down + To cheer the heart of the troubled town. + Ring out, "Salvator," lord of all,-- + "Roland" in Ghent may hear thee call! + + O brave bell-music of Malines, + In this dark hour how much you mean! + The dreadful night of blood and tears + Sweeps down on Belgium, but she hears + Deep in her heart the melody + Of songs she learned when she was free. + She will not falter, faint, nor fail, + But fight until her rights prevail + And all her ancient belfries ring + "The Flemish Lion," "God Save the King!" + + + + + THE NAME OF FRANCE + + + Give us a name to fill the mind + With the shining thoughts that lead mankind, + The glory of learning, the joy of art,-- + A name that tells of a splendid part. + In long, long toil and the strenuous fight + Of the human race to win its way + From the feudal darkness into the day + Of Freedom, Brotherhood, Equal Right,-- + A name like a star, a name of light. + I give you _France_! + + Give us a name to stir the blood + With a warmer glow and a swifter flood, + At the touch of a courage that knows not fear,-- + A name like the sound of a trumpet, clear. + And silver-sweet, and iron-strong, + That calls three million men to their feet, + Ready to march, and steady to meet + The foes who threaten that name with wrong,-- + A name that rings like a battle-song. + I give you _France_! + + Give us a name to move the heart + With the strength that noble griefs impart, + A name that speaks of the blood outpoured + To save mankind from the sway of the sword,-- + A name that calls on the world to share + In the burden of sacrificial strife + When the cause at stake is the world's free life + And the rule of the people everywhere,-- + A name like a vow, a name like a prayer. + I give you _France_! + + The Hague, September, 1916. + + + + + JEANNE D'ARC RETURNS + + 1914 1916 + + + What hast thou done, O womanhood of France, + Mother and daughter, sister, sweetheart, wife, + What hast thou done, amid this fateful strife, + To prove the pride of thine inheritance. + In this fair land of freedom and romance? + I hear thy voice with tears and courage rife,-- + Smiling against the swords that seek thy life-- + Make answer in a noble utterance: + "I give France all I have, and all she asks. + Would it were more! Ah, let her ask and take; + My hands to nurse her wounded, do her tasks,-- + My feet to run her errands through the dark,-- + My heart to bleed in triumph for her sake,-- + And all my soul to follow thee, Jeanne d'Arc!" + + + April 16, 1916. + + + + + INTERLUDES IN HOLLAND + + + + + THE HEAVENLY HILLS OF HOLLAND + + + The heavenly hills of Holland,-- + How wondrously they rise + Above the smooth green pastures + Into the azure skies! + With blue and purple hollows, + With peaks of dazzling snow, + Along the far horizon + The clouds are marching slow, + + No mortal fool has trodden + The summits of that range, + Nor walked those mystic valleys + Whose colors ever change; + Yet we possess their beauty, + And visit them in dreams, + While the ruddy gold of sunset + From cliff and canyon gleams. + + In days of cloudless weather + They melt into the light; + When fog and mist surround us + They're hidden from our sight; + But when returns a season + Clear shining after rain, + While the northwest wind is blowing, + We see the hills again. + + The old Dutch painters loved them, + Their pictures show them clear,-- + Old Hobbema and Ruysduel, + Van Goyen and Vermeer, + Above the level landscape, + Rich polders, long-armed mills, + Canals and ancient cities,-- + Float Holland's heavenly hills. + + + The Hague, November, 1916. + + + + + THE PROUD LADY + + + When Staevoren town was in its prime + And queened the Zuyder Zee, + Its ships went out to every clime + With costly merchantry. + + A lady dwelt in that rich town, + The fairest in all the land; + She walked abroad in a velvet gown, + With many rings on her hand. + + Her hair was bright as the beaten gold, + Her lips as coral red, + Her roving eyes were blue and bold, + And her heart with pride was fed. + + For she was proud of her father's ships, + As she watched them gayly pass; + And pride looked out of her eyes and lips + When she saw herself in the glass. + + "Now come," she said to the captains ten, + Who were ready to put to sea, + "Ye are all my men and my father's men, + And what will ye do for me?" + + "Go north and south, go east and west, + And get me gifts," she said. + "And he who bringeth me home the best, + With that man will I wed." + + So they all fared forth, and sought with care + In many a famous mart, + For satins and silks and jewels rare, + To win that lady's heart. + + She looked at them all with never a thought + And careless put them by; + "I am not fain of the things ye brought, + Enough of these have I." + + The last that came was the head of the fleet, + His name was Jan Borel; + He bent his knee at the lady's feet,-- + In truth he loved her well. + + "I've brought thee home the best i' the world, + A shipful of Danzig corn!" + She stared at him long; her red lips curled, + Her blue eyes filled with scorn. + + "Now out on thee, thou feckless kerl, + A loon thou art," she said. + "Am I a starving beggar girl? + Shall I ever lack for bread?" + + "Go empty all thy sacks of grain + Into the nearest sea, + And never show thy face again + To make a mock of me." + + Young Jan Borel, he answered naught, + But in the harbor cast + The sacks of golden corn he brought, + And groaned when fell the last. + + Then Jan Borel, he hoisted sail, + And out to sea he bore; + He passed the Helder in a gale + And came again no more. + + But the grains of corn went drifting down + Like devil-scattered seed, + To sow the harbor of the town + With a wicked growth of weed. + + The roots were thick and the silt and sand + Were gathered day by day, + Till not a furlong out from land + A shoal had barred the way. + + Then Staevoren town saw evil years, + No ships could out or in. + The boats lay rolling at the piers, + And the mouldy grain in the bin. + + The grass-grown streets were all forlorn, + The town in ruin stood, + The lady's velvet gown was torn, + Her rings were sold for food. + + Her father had perished long ago, + But the lady held her pride. + She walked with a scornful step and slow, + Till at last in her rags she died. + + Yet still on the crumbling piers of the town, + When the midnight moon shines free, + A woman walks in a velvet gown + And scatters corn in the sea. + + + + + FLOOD-TIDE OF FLOWERS + + IN HOLLAND + + + The laggard winter ebbed so slow + With freezing rain and melting snow, + It seemed as if the earth would stay + Forever where the tide was low, + In sodden green and watery gray. + + But now from depths beyond our sight, + The tide is turning in the night, + And floods of color long concealed + Come silent rising toward the light, + Through garden bare and empty field. + + And first, along the sheltered nooks, + The crocus runs in little brooks + Of joyance, till by light made bold + They show the gladness of their looks + In shining pools of white and gold. + + The tiny scilla, sapphire blue, + Is gently sweeping in, to strew + The earth with heaven; and sudden rills + Of sunlit yellow, sweeping through, + Spread into lakes of daffodils. + + The hyacinths, with fragrant heads, + Have overflowed their sandy beds, + And fill the earth with faint perfume, + The breath that Spring around her sheds. + And now the tulips break in bloom! + + A sea, a rainbow-tinted sea, + A splendor and a mystery, + Floods o'er the fields of faded gray: + The roads are full of folks in glee, + For lo,--to-day is Easter Day! + + + April, 1916. + + + + + ENTER AMERICA + + + + + AMERICA'S PROSPERITY + + + They tell me thou art rich, my country: gold + In glittering flood has poured into thy chest; + Thy flocks and herds increase, thy barns are pressed + With harvest, and thy stores can hardly hold + Their merchandise; unending trains are rolled + Along thy network rails of East and West; + Thy factories and forges never rest; + Thou art enriched in all things bought and sold! + + But dost _thou_ prosper? Better news I crave. + O dearest country, is it well with thee + Indeed, and is thy soul in health? + A nobler people, hearts more wisely brave, + And thoughts that lift men up and make them free.-- + These are prosperity and vital wealth! + + + The Hague, October 1, 1916. + + + + + THE GLORY OF SHIPS + + + The glory of ships is an old, old song, + since the days when the sea-rovers ran + In their open boats through the roaring surf, + and the spread of the world began; + The glory of ships is a light on the sea, + and a star in the story of man. + + When Homer sang of the galleys of Greece + that conquered the Trojan shore, + And Solomon lauded the barks of Tyre that + brought great wealth to his door, + 'Twas little they knew, those ancient men, + what would come of the sail and the oar. + + The Greek ships rescued the West from the East, + when they harried the Persians home; + And the Roman ships were the wings of strength + that bore up the empire, Rome; + And the ships or Spain found a wide new world + far over the fields of foam. + + Then the tribes of courage at last saw clear + that the ocean was not a bound, + But a broad highway, and a challenge to seek + for treasure as yet unfound; + So the fearless ships fared forth to the search, + in joy that the globe was round. + + Their hulls were heightened, their sails spread out. + they grew with the growth of their quest; + They opened the secret doors of the East, + and the golden gates of the West; + And many a city of high renown + was proud of a ship on its crest. + + The fleets of England and Holland and France + were at strife with each other and Spain; + And battle and storm sent a myriad ships + to sleep in the depths of the main; + But the seafaring spirit could never be drowned, + and it filled up the fleets again. + + They greatened and grew, with the aid of steam, + to a wonderful, vast array, + That carries the thoughts and the traffic of men + into every harbor and bay; + And now in the world-wide work of the ships + 'tis England that leads the way. + + O well for the leading that follows the law + of a common right on the sea! + But ill for the leader who tries to hold + what belongs to mankind in fee! + The way of the ships is an open way, + and the ocean must ever be free! + + Remember, O first of the maritime folk, + how the rise of your greatness began. + It will live if you safeguard the round-the-world road + from the shame of a selfish ban; + For the glory of ships is a light on the sea, + and a star in the story of man! + + + September 12, 1916. + + + + + MARE LIBERUM + + + I + + You dare to say with perjured lips, + "We fight to make the ocean free"? + _You_, whose black trail of butchered ships + Bestrews the bed of every sea + Where German submarines have wrought + Their horrors! Have you never thought,-- + What you call freedom, men call piracy! + + + II + + Unnumbered ghosts that haunt the wave, + Where you have murdered, cry you down; + And seamen whom you would not save, + Weave now in weed grown depths a crown + Of shame for your imperious head,-- + A dark memorial of the dead,-- + Women and children whom you sent to drown. + + + III + + Nay, not till thieves are set to guard + The gold, and corsairs called to keep + O'er peaceful commerce watch and ward + And wolves do herd the helpless sheep, + Shall men and women look to thee, + Thou ruthless Old Man of the Sea, + To safeguard law and freedom on the deep! + + + IV + + In nobler breeds we put our trust; + The nations in whose sacred lore + The "Ought" stands out above the "Must," + And honor rules in peace and war. + With these we hold in soul and heart, + With these we choose our lot and part, + Till Liberty is safe on sea and shore. + + + _London Times_, February 12, 1917. + + + + + "LIBERTY ENLIGHTENING THE WORLD" + + + Thou warden of the western gate, above Manhattan Bay, + The fogs of doubt that hid thy face are driven clean away: + Thine eyes at last look far and clear, thou liftest high thy hand + To spread the light of liberty world-wide for every land. + + No more thou dreamest of a peace reserved alone for thee, + While friends are fighting for thy cause beyond the guardian sea; + The battle that they wage is thine; thou fallest if they fall; + The swollen flood of Prussian pride will sweep unchecked o'er all. + + O cruel is the conquer-lust in Hohenzollern brains; + The paths they plot to gain their goal are dark with shameful stains: + No faith they keep, no law revere, no god but naked Might;-- + They are the foemen of mankind. Up, Liberty; and smite! + + Britain, and France, and Italy, and Russia newly born, + Have waited for thee in the night. Oh, come as comes the morn! + Serene and strong and full of faith, America, arise, + With steady hope and mighty help to join thy brave Allies. + + O dearest country of my heart, home of the high desire, + Make clean thy soul for sacrifice on Freedom's altar-fire; + For thou must suffer, thou must fight, until the war-lords cease, + And all the peoples lift their heads in liberty and peace. + + + _London Times_, April 12, 1917. + + + + + THE OXFORD THRUSHES + + FEBRUARY, 1917 + + + I never thought again to hear + The Oxford thrushes singing clear, + Amid the February rain, + Their sweet, indomitable strain. + + A wintry vapor lightly spreads + Among the trees, and round the beds + Where daffodil and jonquil sleep, + Only the snowdrop wakes to weep. + + It is not springtime yet. Alas, + What dark, tempestuous days must pass, + Till England's trial by battle cease, + And summer comes again with peace. + + The lofty halls, the tranquil towers, + Where Learning in untroubled hours + Held her high court, serene in fame, + Are lovely still, yet not the same. + + The novices in fluttering gown + No longer fill the ancient town, + But fighting men in khaki drest-- + And in the Schools the wounded rest. + + Ah, far away, 'neath stranger skies + Full many a son of Oxford lies, + And whispers from his warrior grave, + "I died to keep the faith you gave." + + The mother mourns, but does not fail, + Her courage and her love prevail + O'er sorrow, and her spirit hears + The promise of triumphant years. + + Then sing, ye thrushes, in the rain + Your sweet, indomitable strain. + Ye bring a word from God on high + And voices in our hearts reply. + + + + + HOMEWARD BOUND + + + Home, for my heart still calls me; + Home, through the danger zone; + Home, whatever befalls me, + I will sail again to my own! + + Wolves of the sea are hiding + Closely along the way, + Under the water biding + Their moment to rend and slay. + + Black is the eagle that brands them, + Black are their hearts as the night, + Black is the hate that sends them + To murder but not to fight. + + Flower of the German Culture, + Boast of the Kaiser's Marine, + Choose for your emblem the vulture, + Cowardly, cruel, obscene! + + Forth from her sheltered haven + Our peaceful ship glides slow, + Noiseless in flight as a raven, + Gray as a hoodie crow. + + She doubles and turns in her bearing, + Like a twisting plover she goes; + The way of her westward faring + Only the captain knows. + + In a lonely bay concealing + She lingers for days, and slips + At dusk from her covert, stealing + Thro' channels feared by the ships. + + Brave are the men, and steady, + Who guide her over the deep,-- + British mariners, ready + To face the sea-wolf's leap. + + Lord of the winds and waters, + Bring our ship to her mark, + Safe from this game of hide-and-seek + With murderers in the dark! + + + On the S.S. _Baltic_, May, 1917. + + + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Red Flower, by Henry Van Dyke + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RED FLOWER *** + +***** This file should be named 9388.txt or 9388.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/9/3/8/9388/ + +Produced by Ted Garvin, Tonya Allen and PG Distributed Proofreaders + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: The Red Flower + Poems Written in War Time + +Author: Henry Van Dyke + +Release Date: November, 2005 [EBook #9388] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on September 28, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RED FLOWER *** + + + + +Produced by Ted Garvin, Tonya Allen and PG Distributed Proofreaders + + + + +THE RED FLOWER + +POEMS WRITTEN IN WAR TIME + +BY +HENRY VAN DYKE +D.O.L. (OXON.) + + +1919 + + + +PREFACE + + +These are verses that came to me in this dreadful war time amid the cares +and labors of a heavy task. + +Two of the poems, "A Scrap of Paper" and "Stand Fast," were written in +1914 and bore the signature _Civis Americanus_--the use of my own +name at the time being impossible. Two others, "Lights Out" and "Remarks +about Kings," were read for me by Robert Underwood Johnson at the meeting +of the American Academy in Boston, November, 1915, at which I was unable +to be present. + +The rest of the verses were printed after I had resigned my diplomatic post +and was free to say what I thought and felt, without reserve. + +The "Interludes in Holland" are thoughts of the peaceful things that will +abide for all the world after we have won this war against war. + +SYLVANORA, October 1, 1917. + + + + +CONTENTS + + +PREMONITION + THE RED FLOWER (JUNE, 1914) + +THE TRIAL AS BY FIRE + A SCRAP OF PAPER + STAND FAST + LIGHTS OUT (1915) + REMARKS ABOUT KINGS + WAR-MUSIC + MIGHT AND RIGHT + THE PRICE OF PEACE + STORM-MUSIC + +FRANCE AND BELGIUM + THE BELLS OP MALINES (AUGUST 17, 1914) + THE NAME OF FRANCE + JEANNE D'ARC RETURNS (1914-1916) + +INTERLUDES IN HOLLAND + THE HEAVENLY HILLS OF HOLLAND + THE PROUD LADY + FLOOD-TIDE OF FLOWERS (IN HOLLAND) + +ENTER AMERICA + AMERICAN'S PROSPERITY + THE GLORY OF SHIPS + MARE LIBERUM + "LIBERTY ENLIGHTENING THE WORLD" + THE OXFORD THRUSHES (FEBRUARY, 1917) + HOMEWARD BOUND + + + + +PREMONITION + + + + +THE RED FLOWER + +June 1914 + + +In the pleasant time of Pentecost, + By the little river Kyll, +I followed the angler's winding path + Or waded the stream at will. +And the friendly fertile German land + Lay round me green and still. + +But all day long on the eastern bank + Of the river cool and clear, +Where the curving track of the double rails + Was hardly seen though near, +The endless trains of German troops + Went rolling down to Trier. + +They packed the windows with bullet heads + And caps of hodden gray; +They laughed and sang and shouted loud + When the trains were brought to a stay; +They waved their hands and sang again + As they went on their iron way. + +No shadow fell on the smiling land, + No cloud arose in the sky; +I could hear the river's quiet tune + When the trains had rattled by; +But my heart sank low with a heavy sense + Of trouble,--I knew not why. + +Then came I into a certain field + Where the devil's paint-brush spread +'Mid the gray and green of the rolling hills + A flaring splotch of red, +An evil omen, a bloody sign, + And a token of many dead. + +I saw in a vision the field-gray horde + Break forth at the devil's hour, +And trample the earth into crimson mud + In the rage of the Will to Power,-- +All this I dreamed in the valley of Kyll, + At the sign of the blood-red flower. + + + + +A SCRAP OF PAPER + + +"Will you go to war just for a scrap of paper?"--_Question of the +German Chancellor to the British Ambassador, August 3, 1914._ + +A mocking question! Britain's answer came +Swift as the light and searching as the flame. + +"Yes, for a scrap of paper we will fight +Till our last breath, and God defend the right! + +"A scrap of paper where a name is set +Is strong as duty's pledge and honor's debt. + +"A scrap of paper holds for man and wife +The sacrament of love, the bound of life. + +"A scrap of paper may be Holy Writ +With God's eternal word to hallow it. + +"A scrap of paper binds us both to stand +Defenders of a neutral neighbor land. + +"By God, by faith, by honor, yes! We fight +To keep our name upon that paper white." + + +September, 1914 + + + + +STAND FAST + + + Stand fast, Great Britain! +Together England, Scotland, Ireland stand +One in the faith that makes a mighty land, +True to the bond you gave and will not break +And fearless in the fight for conscience' sake! +Against Giant Robber clad in steel, +With blood of trampled Belgium on his heel, +Striding through France to strike you down at last, + Britain, stand fast! + + Stand fast, brave land! +The Huns are thundering toward the citadel; +They prate of Culture but their path is Hell; +Their light is darkness, and the bloody sword +They wield and worship is their only Lord. +O land where reason stands secure on right, +O land where freedom is the source of light, +Against the mailed Barbarians' deadly blast, + Britain, stand fast! + + Stand fast, dear land! +Thou island mother of a world-wide race, +Whose children speak thy tongue and love thy face, +Their hearts and hopes are with thee in the strife, +Their hands will break the sword that seeks thy life; +Fight on until the Teuton madness cease; +Fight bravely on, until the word of peace +Is spoken in the English tongue at last, + Britain, stand fast! + + +September, 1914. + + + + +LIGHTS OUT + +(1915) + + +"Lights out" along the land, +"Lights out" upon the sea. +The night must put her hiding hand +O'er peaceful towns where children sleep, +And peaceful ships that darkly creep +Across the waves, as if they were not free. + +The dragons of the air, +The hell-hounds of the deep, +Lurking and prowling everywhere, +Go forth to seek their helpless prey, +Not knowing whom they maim or slay-- +Mad harvesters, who care not what they reap. + +Out with the tranquil lights, +Out with the lights that burn +For love and law and human rights! +Set back the clock a thousand years: +All they have gained now disappears, +And the dark ages suddenly return. + +Kaiser who loosed wild death +And terror in the night +God grant you draw no quiet breath, +Until the madness you began +Is ended, and long-suffering man, +Set free from war lords, cries, "Let there be Light." + + +October, 1915. + +Read at the meeting of the American Academy, Boston, +November, 1915. + + + + +REMARKS ABOUT KINGS + +_God said, "I am tired of kings._"--EMERSON. + + +God said, "I am tired of kings,"-- +But that was a long time ago! +And meantime man said, "No, +I like their looks in their robes and rings." +So he crowned a few more, +And they went on playing the game as before +Fighting and spoiling things. + +Man said, "I am tired of kings! +Sons of the robber-chiefs of yore, +They make me pay for their lust and their war; +I am the puppet, they pull the strings; +The blood of my heart is the wine they drink. +I will govern myself for while I think, +And see what that brings!" + +Then God, who made the first remark, +Smiled in the dark. + + +Read at the meeting of the American Academy, Boston. +November, 1915. + + + + +WAR-MUSIC + + + Break off! Dance no more! + Danger is at the door. + Music is in arms. + To signal war's alarms, + +Hark, a sudden trumpet calling + Over the hill +Why are you calling, trumpet, calling? + What is your will? + + Men, men, men! +Men who are ready to fight +For their country's life, and the right. +Of a liberty-loving land to be + Free, free, free! +Free from a tyrant's chain, +Free from dishonor's stain, +Free to guard and maintain +All that her fathers fought for, +All that her sons have wrought for, + Resolute, brave, and free! + + Call again, trumpet, call again, + Call up the men! + Do you hear the storm of cheers + Mingled with the women's tears +And the tramp, tramp, tramp of marching feet? + Do you hear the throbbing drum + As the hosts of battle come +Keeping time, time, time to its beat? + O Music give a song + To make their spirit strong +For the fury of the tempest they must meet. + + The hoarse roar + Of the monster guns; + And the sharp bark + Of the lesser guns; + The whine of the shells, + The rifles' clatter + Where the bullets patter, + The rattle, rattle, rattle + Of the mitrailleuse in battle, + And the yells + Of the men who charge through hells + Where the poison gas descends. + And the bursting shrapnel rends + Limb from limb + In the dim + Chaos and clamor of the strife + Where no man thinks of his life + But only of fighting through, + Blindly fighting through, through! + + 'Tis done + At last! + The victory won, +The dissonance of warfare past! + + O Music mourn the dead + Whose loyal blood was shed, +And sound the taps for every hero slain; + Then lend into the song + That made their spirit strong, +And tell the world they did not die in vain. + +Thank God we can see, in the glory of morn, + The invincible flag that our fathers defended; +And our hearts can repeat what the heroes have sworn, + That war shall not end till the war-lust is ended, +Then the bloodthirsty sword shall no longer be lord + Of the nations oppressed by the conqueror's horde, +But the banners of freedom shall peacefully wave + O'er the world of the free and the lands of the brave. + + +May, 1916 + + + + +MIGHT AND RIGHT + + +If Might made Right, life were a wild-beasts' cage; +If Right made Might, this were the golden age; +But now, until we win the long campaign +Right must gain Might to conquer and to reign. + + +July 1, 1915. + + + + +THE PRICE OF PEACE + + +Peace without Justice is a low estate,-- +A coward cringing to an iron Fate! +But Peace through Justice is the great ideal,-- +We'll pay the price of war to make it real. + +December 28, 1916. + + + + +STORM MUSIC + + +O Music hast thou only heard +The laughing river, the singing bird, +The murmuring wind in the poplar-trees,-- +Nothing but Nature's melodies? + Nay, thou hearest all her tones, + As a Queen must hear! + Sounds of wrath and fear, + Mutterings, shouts, and moans, + Mildness, tumult, and despair,-- + All she has that shakes the air + With voices fierce and wild! +Thou art a Queen and not a dreaming child,-- +Put on thy crown and let us hear thee reign +Triumphant in a world of storm and strain! + + Echo the long-drawn sighs +Of the mounting wind in the pines; +And the sobs of the mounting waves that rise + In the dark of the troubled deep +To break on the beach in fiery lines. + Echo the far-off roll of thunder, + Rumbling loud + And ever louder, under + The blue-black curtain of cloud, + Where the lightning serpents gleam, + Echo the moaning + Of the forest in its sleep + Like a giant groaning +In the torment of a dream. + + Now an interval of quiet + For a moment holds the air + In the breathless hush + Of a silent prayer. + + Then the sudden rush + Of the rain, and the riot + Of the shrieking, tearing gale + Breaks loose in the night, + With a fusillade of hail! + Hear the forest fight, +With its tossing arms that crack and clash + In the thunder's cannonade, + While the lightning's forked flash +Brings the old hero-trees to the ground with a crash! +Hear the breakers' deepening roar, + Driven like a herd of cattle + In the wild stampede of battle, +Trampling, trampling, trampling, to overwhelm the shore. + + Is it the end of all? + Will the land crumble and fall? + Nay, for a voice replies + Out of the hidden skies, +"Thus far, O sea, shalt thou go, +So long, O wind, shalt thou blow: +Return to your bounds and cease, +And let the earth have peace!" + + O Music, lead the way-- + The stormy night is past, +Lift up our heads to greet the day, + And the joy of things that last. + + The dissonance and pain + That mortals must endure +Are changed in thine immortal strain + To something great and pure. + + True love will conquer strife, + And strength from conflict flows, +For discord is the thorn of life + And harmony the rose. + + +May, 1916. + + + + + +FRANCE AND BELGIUM + + + + +THE BELLS OF MALINES + +AUGUST 17, 1914 + + +The gabled roofs of old Malines +Are russet red and gray and green, +And o'er them in the sunset hour +Looms, dark and huge, St. Rombold's tower. +High in that rugged nest concealed, +The sweetest bells that ever pealed, +The deepest bells that ever rung, +The lightest bells that ever sung, +Are waiting for the master's hand +To fling their music o'er the land. + +And shall they ring to-night, Malines? +In nineteen hundred and fourteen, +The frightful year, the year of woe, +When fire and blood and rapine flow +Across the land from lost Liege, +Storm-driven by the German rage? +The other carillons have ceased; +Fallen is Hasselt, fallen Diesl, +From Ghent and Bruges no voices come, +Antwerp is silent, Brussels dumb! + +But in thy belfry, O Malines, +The master of the bells unseen +Has climbed to where the keyboard stands,-- +To-night his heart is in his hands! +Once more, before invasion's hell +Breaks round the tower he loves so well, +Once more he strikes the well-worn keys, +And sends aerial harmonies +Far-floating through the twilight dim +In patriot song and holy hymn. + +O listen, burghers of Malines! +Soldier and workman, pale beguine. +And mother with a trembling flock +Of children clinging to thy frock,-- +Look up and listen, listen all! +What tunes are these that gently fall +Around you like a benison? +"The Flemish Lion," "Brabanconne," +"O brave Liege," and all the airs +That Belgium in her bosom bears. + +Ring up, ye silvery octaves high, +Whose notes like circling swallows fly; +And ring, each old sonorous bell,-- +"Jesu," "Maria," "Michael!" +Weave in and out, and high and low, +The magic music that you know, +And let it float and flutter down +To cheer the heart of the troubled town. +Ring out, "Salvator," lord of all,-- +"Roland" in Ghent may hear thee call! + +O brave bell-music of Malines, +In this dark hour how much you mean! +The dreadful night of blood and tears +Sweeps down on Belgium, but she hears +Deep in her heart the melody +Of songs she learned when she was free. +She will not falter, faint, nor fail, +But fight until her rights prevail +And all her ancient belfries ring +"The Flemish Lion," "God Save the King!" + + + + +THE NAME OF FRANCE + + +Give us a name to fill the mind +With the shining thoughts that lead mankind, +The glory of learning, the joy of art,-- +A name that tells of a splendid part. +In long, long toil and the strenuous fight +Of the human race to win its way +From the feudal darkness into the day +Of Freedom, Brotherhood, Equal Right,-- +A name like a star, a name of light. +I give you _France_! + +Give us a name to stir the blood +With a warmer glow and a swifter flood, +At the touch of a courage that knows not fear,-- +A name like the sound of a trumpet, clear. +And silver-sweet, and iron-strong, +That calls three million men to their feet, +Ready to march, and steady to meet +The foes who threaten that name with wrong,-- +A name that rings like a battle-song. +I give you _France_! + +Give us a name to move the heart +With the strength that noble griefs impart, +A name that speaks of the blood outpoured +To save mankind from the sway of the sword,-- +A name that calls on the world to share +In the burden of sacrificial strife +When the cause at stake is the world's free life +And the rule of the people everywhere,-- +A name like a vow, a name like a prayer. +I give you _France_! + +The Hague, September, 1916. + + + + +JEANNE D'ARC RETURNS + +1914 1916 + + +What hast thou done, O womanhood of France, + Mother and daughter, sister, sweetheart, wife, + What hast thou done, amid this fateful strife, +To prove the pride of thine inheritance. +In this fair land of freedom and romance? + I hear thy voice with tears and courage rife,-- + Smiling against the swords that seek thy life-- +Make answer in a noble utterance: +"I give France all I have, and all she asks. + Would it were more! Ah, let her ask and take; +My hands to nurse her wounded, do her tasks,-- + My feet to run her errands through the dark,-- +My heart to bleed in triumph for her sake,-- + And all my soul to follow thee, Jeanne d'Arc!" + + +April 16, 1916. + + + + +INTERLUDES IN HOLLAND + + + + +THE HEAVENLY HILLS OF HOLLAND + + +The heavenly hills of Holland,-- + How wondrously they rise +Above the smooth green pastures + Into the azure skies! +With blue and purple hollows, + With peaks of dazzling snow, +Along the far horizon + The clouds are marching slow, + +No mortal fool has trodden + The summits of that range, +Nor walked those mystic valleys + Whose colors ever change; +Yet we possess their beauty, + And visit them in dreams, +While the ruddy gold of sunset + From cliff and canyon gleams. + +In days of cloudless weather + They melt into the light; +When fog and mist surround us + They're hidden from our sight; +But when returns a season + Clear shining after rain, +While the northwest wind is blowing, + We see the hills again. + +The old Dutch painters loved them, + Their pictures show them clear,-- +Old Hobbema and Ruysduel, + Van Goyen and Vermeer, +Above the level landscape, + Rich polders, long-armed mills, +Canals and ancient cities,-- + Float Holland's heavenly hills. + + +The Hague, November, 1916. + + + + +THE PROUD LADY + + +When Staevoren town was in its prime + And queened the Zuyder Zee, +Its ships went out to every clime + With costly merchantry. + +A lady dwelt in that rich town, + The fairest in all the land; +She walked abroad in a velvet gown, + With many rings on her hand. + +Her hair was bright as the beaten gold, + Her lips as coral red, +Her roving eyes were blue and bold, + And her heart with pride was fed. + +For she was proud of her father's ships, + As she watched them gayly pass; +And pride looked out of her eyes and lips + When she saw herself in the glass. + +"Now come," she said to the captains ten, + Who were ready to put to sea, +"Ye are all my men and my father's men, + And what will ye do for me?" + +"Go north and south, go east and west, + And get me gifts," she said. +"And he who bringeth me home the best, + With that man will I wed." + +So they all fared forth, and sought with care + In many a famous mart, +For satins and silks and jewels rare, + To win that lady's heart. + +She looked at them all with never a thought + And careless put them by; +"I am not fain of the things ye brought, + Enough of these have I." + +The last that came was the head of the fleet, + His name was Jan Borel; +He bent his knee at the lady's feet,-- + In truth he loved her well. + +"I've brought thee home the best i' the world, + A shipful of Danzig corn!" +She stared at him long; her red lips curled, + Her blue eyes filled with scorn. + +"Now out on thee, thou feckless kerl, + A loon thou art," she said. +"Am I a starving beggar girl? + Shall I ever lack for bread?" + +"Go empty all thy sacks of grain + Into the nearest sea, +And never show thy face again + To make a mock of me." + +Young Jan Borel, he answered naught, + But in the harbor cast +The sacks of golden corn he brought, + And groaned when fell the last. + +Then Jan Borel, he hoisted sail, + And out to sea he bore; +He passed the Helder in a gale + And came again no more. + +But the grains of corn went drifting down + Like devil-scattered seed, +To sow the harbor of the town + With a wicked growth of weed. + +The roots were thick and the silt and sand + Were gathered day by day, +Till not a furlong out from land + A shoal had barred the way. + +Then Staevoren town saw evil years, + No ships could out or in. +The boats lay rolling at the piers, + And the mouldy grain in the bin. + +The grass-grown streets were all forlorn, + The town in ruin stood, +The lady's velvet gown was torn, + Her rings were sold for food. + +Her father had perished long ago, + But the lady held her pride. +She walked with a scornful step and slow, + Till at last in her rags she died. + +Yet still on the crumbling piers of the town, + When the midnight moon shines free, +A woman walks in a velvet gown + And scatters corn in the sea. + + + + +FLOOD-TIDE OF FLOWERS + +IN HOLLAND + + +The laggard winter ebbed so slow +With freezing rain and melting snow, +It seemed as if the earth would stay +Forever where the tide was low, +In sodden green and watery gray. + +But now from depths beyond our sight, +The tide is turning in the night, +And floods of color long concealed +Come silent rising toward the light, +Through garden bare and empty field. + +And first, along the sheltered nooks, +The crocus runs in little brooks +Of joyance, till by light made bold +They show the gladness of their looks +In shining pools of white and gold. + +The tiny scilla, sapphire blue, +Is gently sweeping in, to strew +The earth with heaven; and sudden rills +Of sunlit yellow, sweeping through, +Spread into lakes of daffodils. + +The hyacinths, with fragrant heads, +Have overflowed their sandy beds, +And fill the earth with faint perfume, +The breath that Spring around her sheds. +And now the tulips break in bloom! + +A sea, a rainbow-tinted sea, +A splendor and a mystery, +Floods o'er the fields of faded gray: +The roads are full of folks in glee, +For lo,--to-day is Easter Day! + + +April, 1916. + + + + +ENTER AMERICA + + + + +AMERICA'S PROSPERITY + + +They tell me thou art rich, my country: gold + In glittering flood has poured into thy chest; + Thy flocks and herds increase, thy barns are pressed +With harvest, and thy stores can hardly hold +Their merchandise; unending trains are rolled + Along thy network rails of East and West; + Thy factories and forges never rest; +Thou art enriched in all things bought and sold! + +But dost _thou_ prosper? Better news I crave. + O dearest country, is it well with thee + Indeed, and is thy soul in health? +A nobler people, hearts more wisely brave, + And thoughts that lift men up and make them free.-- + These are prosperity and vital wealth! + + +The Hague, October 1, 1916. + + + + +THE GLORY OF SHIPS + + +The glory of ships is an old, old song, + since the days when the sea-rovers ran +In their open boats through the roaring surf, + and the spread of the world began; +The glory of ships is a light on the sea, + and a star in the story of man. + +When Homer sang of the galleys of Greece + that conquered the Trojan shore, +And Solomon lauded the barks of Tyre that + brought great wealth to his door, +'Twas little they knew, those ancient men, + what would come of the sail and the oar. + +The Greek ships rescued the West from the East, + when they harried the Persians home; +And the Roman ships were the wings of strength + that bore up the empire, Rome; +And the ships or Spain found a wide new world + far over the fields of foam. + +Then the tribes of courage at last saw clear + that the ocean was not a bound, +But a broad highway, and a challenge to seek + for treasure as yet unfound; +So the fearless ships fared forth to the search, + in joy that the globe was round. + +Their hulls were heightened, their sails spread out. + they grew with the growth of their quest; +They opened the secret doors of the East, + and the golden gates of the West; +And many a city of high renown + was proud of a ship on its crest. + +The fleets of England and Holland and France + were at strife with each other and Spain; +And battle and storm sent a myriad ships + to sleep in the depths of the main; +But the seafaring spirit could never be drowned, + and it filled up the fleets again. + +They greatened and grew, with the aid of steam, + to a wonderful, vast array, +That carries the thoughts and the traffic of men + into every harbor and bay; +And now in the world-wide work of the ships + 'tis England that leads the way. + +O well for the leading that follows the law + of a common right on the sea! +But ill for the leader who tries to hold + what belongs to mankind in fee! +The way of the ships is an open way, + and the ocean must ever be free! + +Remember, O first of the maritime folk, + how the rise of your greatness began. +It will live if you safeguard the round-the-world road + from the shame of a selfish ban; +For the glory of ships is a light on the sea, + and a star in the story of man! + + +September 12, 1916. + + + + +MARE LIBERUM + + +I + +You dare to say with perjured lips, +"We fight to make the ocean free"? +_You_, whose black trail of butchered ships +Bestrews the bed of every sea +Where German submarines have wrought +Their horrors! Have you never thought,-- +What you call freedom, men call piracy! + + +II + +Unnumbered ghosts that haunt the wave, +Where you have murdered, cry you down; +And seamen whom you would not save, +Weave now in weed grown depths a crown +Of shame for your imperious head,-- +A dark memorial of the dead,-- +Women and children whom you sent to drown. + + +III + +Nay, not till thieves are set to guard +The gold, and corsairs called to keep +O'er peaceful commerce watch and ward +And wolves do herd the helpless sheep, +Shall men and women look to thee, +Thou ruthless Old Man of the Sea, +To safeguard law and freedom on the deep! + + +IV + +In nobler breeds we put our trust; +The nations in whose sacred lore +The "Ought" stands out above the "Must," +And honor rules in peace and war. +With these we hold in soul and heart, +With these we choose our lot and part, +Till Liberty is safe on sea and shore. + + +_London Times_, February 12, 1917. + + + + +"LIBERTY ENLIGHTENING THE WORLD" + + +Thou warden of the western gate, above Manhattan Bay, +The fogs of doubt that hid thy face are driven clean away: +Thine eyes at last look far and clear, thou liftest high thy hand +To spread the light of liberty world-wide for every land. + +No more thou dreamest of a peace reserved alone for thee, +While friends are fighting for thy cause beyond the guardian sea; +The battle that they wage is thine; thou fallest if they fall; +The swollen flood of Prussian pride will sweep unchecked o'er all. + +O cruel is the conquer-lust in Hohenzollern brains; +The paths they plot to gain their goal are dark with shameful stains: +No faith they keep, no law revere, no god but naked Might;-- +They are the foemen of mankind. Up, Liberty; and smite! + +Britain, and France, and Italy, and Russia newly born, +Have waited for thee in the night. Oh, come as comes the morn! +Serene and strong and full of faith, America, arise, +With steady hope and mighty help to join thy brave Allies. + +O dearest country of my heart, home of the high desire, +Make clean thy soul for sacrifice on Freedom's altar-fire; +For thou must suffer, thou must fight, until the war-lords cease, +And all the peoples lift their heads in liberty and peace. + + +_London Times_, April 12, 1917. + + + + +THE OXFORD THRUSHES + +FEBRUARY, 1917 + + +I never thought again to hear +The Oxford thrushes singing clear, +Amid the February rain, +Their sweet, indomitable strain. + +A wintry vapor lightly spreads +Among the trees, and round the beds +Where daffodil and jonquil sleep, +Only the snowdrop wakes to weep. + +It is not springtime yet. Alas, +What dark, tempestuous days must pass, +Till England's trial by battle cease, +And summer comes again with peace. + +The lofty halls, the tranquil towers, +Where Learning in untroubled hours +Held her high court, serene in fame, +Are lovely still, yet not the same. + +The novices in fluttering gown +No longer fill the ancient town, +But fighting men in khaki drest-- +And in the Schools the wounded rest. + +Ah, far away, 'neath stranger skies +Full many a son of Oxford lies, +And whispers from his warrior grave, +"I died to keep the faith you gave." + +The mother mourns, but does not fail, +Her courage and her love prevail +O'er sorrow, and her spirit hears +The promise of triumphant years. + +Then sing, ye thrushes, in the rain +Your sweet, indomitable strain. +Ye bring a word from God on high +And voices in our hearts reply. + + + + +HOMEWARD BOUND + + +Home, for my heart still calls me; + Home, through the danger zone; +Home, whatever befalls me, + I will sail again to my own! + +Wolves of the sea are hiding + Closely along the way, +Under the water biding + Their moment to rend and slay. + +Black is the eagle that brands them, + Black are their hearts as the night, +Black is the hate that sends them + To murder but not to fight. + +Flower of the German Culture, + Boast of the Kaiser's Marine, +Choose for your emblem the vulture, + Cowardly, cruel, obscene! + +Forth from her sheltered haven + Our peaceful ship glides slow, +Noiseless in flight as a raven, + Gray as a hoodie crow. + +She doubles and turns in her bearing, + Like a twisting plover she goes; +The way of her westward faring + Only the captain knows. + +In a lonely bay concealing + She lingers for days, and slips +At dusk from her covert, stealing + Thro' channels feared by the ships. + +Brave are the men, and steady, + Who guide her over the deep,-- +British mariners, ready + To face the sea-wolf's leap. + +Lord of the winds and waters, + Bring our ship to her mark, +Safe from this game of hide-and-seek + With murderers in the dark! + + +On the S.S. _Baltic_, May, 1917. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Red Flower, by Henry Van Dyke + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RED FLOWER *** + +This file should be named 7rdfl10.txt or 7rdfl10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, 7rdfl11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, 7rdfl10a.txt + +Produced by Ted Garvin, Tonya Allen and PG Distributed Proofreaders + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: The Red Flower + Poems Written in War Time + +Author: Henry Van Dyke + +Release Date: November, 2005 [EBook #9388] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on September 28, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RED FLOWER *** + + + + +Produced by Ted Garvin, Tonya Allen and PG Distributed Proofreaders + + + + +THE RED FLOWER + +POEMS WRITTEN IN WAR TIME + +BY +HENRY VAN DYKE +D.O.L. (OXON.) + + +1919 + + + +PREFACE + + +These are verses that came to me in this dreadful war time amid the cares +and labors of a heavy task. + +Two of the poems, "A Scrap of Paper" and "Stand Fast," were written in +1914 and bore the signature _Civis Americanus_--the use of my own +name at the time being impossible. Two others, "Lights Out" and "Remarks +about Kings," were read for me by Robert Underwood Johnson at the meeting +of the American Academy in Boston, November, 1915, at which I was unable +to be present. + +The rest of the verses were printed after I had resigned my diplomatic post +and was free to say what I thought and felt, without reserve. + +The "Interludes in Holland" are thoughts of the peaceful things that will +abide for all the world after we have won this war against war. + +SYLVANORA, October 1, 1917. + + + + +CONTENTS + + +PREMONITION + THE RED FLOWER (JUNE, 1914) + +THE TRIAL AS BY FIRE + A SCRAP OF PAPER + STAND FAST + LIGHTS OUT (1915) + REMARKS ABOUT KINGS + WAR-MUSIC + MIGHT AND RIGHT + THE PRICE OF PEACE + STORM-MUSIC + +FRANCE AND BELGIUM + THE BELLS OP MALINES (AUGUST 17, 1914) + THE NAME OF FRANCE + JEANNE D'ARC RETURNS (1914-1916) + +INTERLUDES IN HOLLAND + THE HEAVENLY HILLS OF HOLLAND + THE PROUD LADY + FLOOD-TIDE OF FLOWERS (IN HOLLAND) + +ENTER AMERICA + AMERICAN'S PROSPERITY + THE GLORY OF SHIPS + MARE LIBERUM + "LIBERTY ENLIGHTENING THE WORLD" + THE OXFORD THRUSHES (FEBRUARY, 1917) + HOMEWARD BOUND + + + + +PREMONITION + + + + +THE RED FLOWER + +June 1914 + + +In the pleasant time of Pentecost, + By the little river Kyll, +I followed the angler's winding path + Or waded the stream at will. +And the friendly fertile German land + Lay round me green and still. + +But all day long on the eastern bank + Of the river cool and clear, +Where the curving track of the double rails + Was hardly seen though near, +The endless trains of German troops + Went rolling down to Trier. + +They packed the windows with bullet heads + And caps of hodden gray; +They laughed and sang and shouted loud + When the trains were brought to a stay; +They waved their hands and sang again + As they went on their iron way. + +No shadow fell on the smiling land, + No cloud arose in the sky; +I could hear the river's quiet tune + When the trains had rattled by; +But my heart sank low with a heavy sense + Of trouble,--I knew not why. + +Then came I into a certain field + Where the devil's paint-brush spread +'Mid the gray and green of the rolling hills + A flaring splotch of red, +An evil omen, a bloody sign, + And a token of many dead. + +I saw in a vision the field-gray horde + Break forth at the devil's hour, +And trample the earth into crimson mud + In the rage of the Will to Power,-- +All this I dreamed in the valley of Kyll, + At the sign of the blood-red flower. + + + + +A SCRAP OF PAPER + + +"Will you go to war just for a scrap of paper?"--_Question of the +German Chancellor to the British Ambassador, August 3, 1914._ + +A mocking question! Britain's answer came +Swift as the light and searching as the flame. + +"Yes, for a scrap of paper we will fight +Till our last breath, and God defend the right! + +"A scrap of paper where a name is set +Is strong as duty's pledge and honor's debt. + +"A scrap of paper holds for man and wife +The sacrament of love, the bound of life. + +"A scrap of paper may be Holy Writ +With God's eternal word to hallow it. + +"A scrap of paper binds us both to stand +Defenders of a neutral neighbor land. + +"By God, by faith, by honor, yes! We fight +To keep our name upon that paper white." + + +September, 1914 + + + + +STAND FAST + + + Stand fast, Great Britain! +Together England, Scotland, Ireland stand +One in the faith that makes a mighty land, +True to the bond you gave and will not break +And fearless in the fight for conscience' sake! +Against Giant Robber clad in steel, +With blood of trampled Belgium on his heel, +Striding through France to strike you down at last, + Britain, stand fast! + + Stand fast, brave land! +The Huns are thundering toward the citadel; +They prate of Culture but their path is Hell; +Their light is darkness, and the bloody sword +They wield and worship is their only Lord. +O land where reason stands secure on right, +O land where freedom is the source of light, +Against the mailed Barbarians' deadly blast, + Britain, stand fast! + + Stand fast, dear land! +Thou island mother of a world-wide race, +Whose children speak thy tongue and love thy face, +Their hearts and hopes are with thee in the strife, +Their hands will break the sword that seeks thy life; +Fight on until the Teuton madness cease; +Fight bravely on, until the word of peace +Is spoken in the English tongue at last, + Britain, stand fast! + + +September, 1914. + + + + +LIGHTS OUT + +(1915) + + +"Lights out" along the land, +"Lights out" upon the sea. +The night must put her hiding hand +O'er peaceful towns where children sleep, +And peaceful ships that darkly creep +Across the waves, as if they were not free. + +The dragons of the air, +The hell-hounds of the deep, +Lurking and prowling everywhere, +Go forth to seek their helpless prey, +Not knowing whom they maim or slay-- +Mad harvesters, who care not what they reap. + +Out with the tranquil lights, +Out with the lights that burn +For love and law and human rights! +Set back the clock a thousand years: +All they have gained now disappears, +And the dark ages suddenly return. + +Kaiser who loosed wild death +And terror in the night +God grant you draw no quiet breath, +Until the madness you began +Is ended, and long-suffering man, +Set free from war lords, cries, "Let there be Light." + + +October, 1915. + +Read at the meeting of the American Academy, Boston, +November, 1915. + + + + +REMARKS ABOUT KINGS + +_God said, "I am tired of kings._"--EMERSON. + + +God said, "I am tired of kings,"-- +But that was a long time ago! +And meantime man said, "No, +I like their looks in their robes and rings." +So he crowned a few more, +And they went on playing the game as before +Fighting and spoiling things. + +Man said, "I am tired of kings! +Sons of the robber-chiefs of yore, +They make me pay for their lust and their war; +I am the puppet, they pull the strings; +The blood of my heart is the wine they drink. +I will govern myself for while I think, +And see what that brings!" + +Then God, who made the first remark, +Smiled in the dark. + + +Read at the meeting of the American Academy, Boston. +November, 1915. + + + + +WAR-MUSIC + + + Break off! Dance no more! + Danger is at the door. + Music is in arms. + To signal war's alarms, + +Hark, a sudden trumpet calling + Over the hill +Why are you calling, trumpet, calling? + What is your will? + + Men, men, men! +Men who are ready to fight +For their country's life, and the right. +Of a liberty-loving land to be + Free, free, free! +Free from a tyrant's chain, +Free from dishonor's stain, +Free to guard and maintain +All that her fathers fought for, +All that her sons have wrought for, + Resolute, brave, and free! + + Call again, trumpet, call again, + Call up the men! + Do you hear the storm of cheers + Mingled with the women's tears +And the tramp, tramp, tramp of marching feet? + Do you hear the throbbing drum + As the hosts of battle come +Keeping time, time, time to its beat? + O Music give a song + To make their spirit strong +For the fury of the tempest they must meet. + + The hoarse roar + Of the monster guns; + And the sharp bark + Of the lesser guns; + The whine of the shells, + The rifles' clatter + Where the bullets patter, + The rattle, rattle, rattle + Of the mitrailleuse in battle, + And the yells + Of the men who charge through hells + Where the poison gas descends. + And the bursting shrapnel rends + Limb from limb + In the dim + Chaos and clamor of the strife + Where no man thinks of his life + But only of fighting through, + Blindly fighting through, through! + + 'Tis done + At last! + The victory won, +The dissonance of warfare past! + + O Music mourn the dead + Whose loyal blood was shed, +And sound the taps for every hero slain; + Then lend into the song + That made their spirit strong, +And tell the world they did not die in vain. + +Thank God we can see, in the glory of morn, + The invincible flag that our fathers defended; +And our hearts can repeat what the heroes have sworn, + That war shall not end till the war-lust is ended, +Then the bloodthirsty sword shall no longer be lord + Of the nations oppressed by the conqueror's horde, +But the banners of freedom shall peacefully wave + O'er the world of the free and the lands of the brave. + + +May, 1916 + + + + +MIGHT AND RIGHT + + +If Might made Right, life were a wild-beasts' cage; +If Right made Might, this were the golden age; +But now, until we win the long campaign +Right must gain Might to conquer and to reign. + + +July 1, 1915. + + + + +THE PRICE OF PEACE + + +Peace without Justice is a low estate,-- +A coward cringing to an iron Fate! +But Peace through Justice is the great ideal,-- +We'll pay the price of war to make it real. + +December 28, 1916. + + + + +STORM MUSIC + + +O Music hast thou only heard +The laughing river, the singing bird, +The murmuring wind in the poplar-trees,-- +Nothing but Nature's melodies? + Nay, thou hearest all her tones, + As a Queen must hear! + Sounds of wrath and fear, + Mutterings, shouts, and moans, + Mildness, tumult, and despair,-- + All she has that shakes the air + With voices fierce and wild! +Thou art a Queen and not a dreaming child,-- +Put on thy crown and let us hear thee reign +Triumphant in a world of storm and strain! + + Echo the long-drawn sighs +Of the mounting wind in the pines; +And the sobs of the mounting waves that rise + In the dark of the troubled deep +To break on the beach in fiery lines. + Echo the far-off roll of thunder, + Rumbling loud + And ever louder, under + The blue-black curtain of cloud, + Where the lightning serpents gleam, + Echo the moaning + Of the forest in its sleep + Like a giant groaning +In the torment of a dream. + + Now an interval of quiet + For a moment holds the air + In the breathless hush + Of a silent prayer. + + Then the sudden rush + Of the rain, and the riot + Of the shrieking, tearing gale + Breaks loose in the night, + With a fusillade of hail! + Hear the forest fight, +With its tossing arms that crack and clash + In the thunder's cannonade, + While the lightning's forkèd flash +Brings the old hero-trees to the ground with a crash! +Hear the breakers' deepening roar, + Driven like a herd of cattle + In the wild stampede of battle, +Trampling, trampling, trampling, to overwhelm the shore. + + Is it the end of all? + Will the land crumble and fall? + Nay, for a voice replies + Out of the hidden skies, +"Thus far, O sea, shalt thou go, +So long, O wind, shalt thou blow: +Return to your bounds and cease, +And let the earth have peace!" + + O Music, lead the way-- + The stormy night is past, +Lift up our heads to greet the day, + And the joy of things that last. + + The dissonance and pain + That mortals must endure +Are changed in thine immortal strain + To something great and pure. + + True love will conquer strife, + And strength from conflict flows, +For discord is the thorn of life + And harmony the rose. + + +May, 1916. + + + + + +FRANCE AND BELGIUM + + + + +THE BELLS OF MALINES + +AUGUST 17, 1914 + + +The gabled roofs of old Malines +Are russet red and gray and green, +And o'er them in the sunset hour +Looms, dark and huge, St. Rombold's tower. +High in that rugged nest concealed, +The sweetest bells that ever pealed, +The deepest bells that ever rung, +The lightest bells that ever sung, +Are waiting for the master's hand +To fling their music o'er the land. + +And shall they ring to-night, Malines? +In nineteen hundred and fourteen, +The frightful year, the year of woe, +When fire and blood and rapine flow +Across the land from lost Liége, +Storm-driven by the German rage? +The other carillons have ceased; +Fallen is Hasselt, fallen Diesl, +From Ghent and Bruges no voices come, +Antwerp is silent, Brussels dumb! + +But in thy belfry, O Malines, +The master of the bells unseen +Has climbed to where the keyboard stands,-- +To-night his heart is in his hands! +Once more, before invasion's hell +Breaks round the tower he loves so well, +Once more he strikes the well-worn keys, +And sends aërial harmonies +Far-floating through the twilight dim +In patriot song and holy hymn. + +O listen, burghers of Malines! +Soldier and workman, pale béguine. +And mother with a trembling flock +Of children clinging to thy frock,-- +Look up and listen, listen all! +What tunes are these that gently fall +Around you like a benison? +"The Flemish Lion," "Brabançonne," +"O brave Liége," and all the airs +That Belgium in her bosom bears. + +Ring up, ye silvery octaves high, +Whose notes like circling swallows fly; +And ring, each old sonorous bell,-- +"Jesu," "Maria," "Michaël!" +Weave in and out, and high and low, +The magic music that you know, +And let it float and flutter down +To cheer the heart of the troubled town. +Ring out, "Salvator," lord of all,-- +"Roland" in Ghent may hear thee call! + +O brave bell-music of Malines, +In this dark hour how much you mean! +The dreadful night of blood and tears +Sweeps down on Belgium, but she hears +Deep in her heart the melody +Of songs she learned when she was free. +She will not falter, faint, nor fail, +But fight until her rights prevail +And all her ancient belfries ring +"The Flemish Lion," "God Save the King!" + + + + +THE NAME OF FRANCE + + +Give us a name to fill the mind +With the shining thoughts that lead mankind, +The glory of learning, the joy of art,-- +A name that tells of a splendid part. +In long, long toil and the strenuous fight +Of the human race to win its way +From the feudal darkness into the day +Of Freedom, Brotherhood, Equal Right,-- +A name like a star, a name of light. +I give you _France_! + +Give us a name to stir the blood +With a warmer glow and a swifter flood, +At the touch of a courage that knows not fear,-- +A name like the sound of a trumpet, clear. +And silver-sweet, and iron-strong, +That calls three million men to their feet, +Ready to march, and steady to meet +The foes who threaten that name with wrong,-- +A name that rings like a battle-song. +I give you _France_! + +Give us a name to move the heart +With the strength that noble griefs impart, +A name that speaks of the blood outpoured +To save mankind from the sway of the sword,-- +A name that calls on the world to share +In the burden of sacrificial strife +When the cause at stake is the world's free life +And the rule of the people everywhere,-- +A name like a vow, a name like a prayer. +I give you _France_! + +The Hague, September, 1916. + + + + +JEANNE D'ARC RETURNS + +1914 1916 + + +What hast thou done, O womanhood of France, + Mother and daughter, sister, sweetheart, wife, + What hast thou done, amid this fateful strife, +To prove the pride of thine inheritance. +In this fair land of freedom and romance? + I hear thy voice with tears and courage rife,-- + Smiling against the swords that seek thy life-- +Make answer in a noble utterance: +"I give France all I have, and all she asks. + Would it were more! Ah, let her ask and take; +My hands to nurse her wounded, do her tasks,-- + My feet to run her errands through the dark,-- +My heart to bleed in triumph for her sake,-- + And all my soul to follow thee, Jeanne d'Arc!" + + +April 16, 1916. + + + + +INTERLUDES IN HOLLAND + + + + +THE HEAVENLY HILLS OF HOLLAND + + +The heavenly hills of Holland,-- + How wondrously they rise +Above the smooth green pastures + Into the azure skies! +With blue and purple hollows, + With peaks of dazzling snow, +Along the far horizon + The clouds are marching slow, + +No mortal fool has trodden + The summits of that range, +Nor walked those mystic valleys + Whose colors ever change; +Yet we possess their beauty, + And visit them in dreams, +While the ruddy gold of sunset + From cliff and canyon gleams. + +In days of cloudless weather + They melt into the light; +When fog and mist surround us + They're hidden from our sight; +But when returns a season + Clear shining after rain, +While the northwest wind is blowing, + We see the hills again. + +The old Dutch painters loved them, + Their pictures show them clear,-- +Old Hobbema and Ruysduel, + Van Goyen and Vermeer, +Above the level landscape, + Rich polders, long-armed mills, +Canals and ancient cities,-- + Float Holland's heavenly hills. + + +The Hague, November, 1916. + + + + +THE PROUD LADY + + +When Stävoren town was in its prime + And queened the Zuyder Zee, +Its ships went out to every clime + With costly merchantry. + +A lady dwelt in that rich town, + The fairest in all the land; +She walked abroad in a velvet gown, + With many rings on her hand. + +Her hair was bright as the beaten gold, + Her lips as coral red, +Her roving eyes were blue and bold, + And her heart with pride was fed. + +For she was proud of her father's ships, + As she watched them gayly pass; +And pride looked out of her eyes and lips + When she saw herself in the glass. + +"Now come," she said to the captains ten, + Who were ready to put to sea, +"Ye are all my men and my father's men, + And what will ye do for me?" + +"Go north and south, go east and west, + And get me gifts," she said. +"And he who bringeth me home the best, + With that man will I wed." + +So they all fared forth, and sought with care + In many a famous mart, +For satins and silks and jewels rare, + To win that lady's heart. + +She looked at them all with never a thought + And careless put them by; +"I am not fain of the things ye brought, + Enough of these have I." + +The last that came was the head of the fleet, + His name was Jan Borel; +He bent his knee at the lady's feet,-- + In truth he loved her well. + +"I've brought thee home the best i' the world, + A shipful of Danzig corn!" +She stared at him long; her red lips curled, + Her blue eyes filled with scorn. + +"Now out on thee, thou feckless kerl, + A loon thou art," she said. +"Am I a starving beggar girl? + Shall I ever lack for bread?" + +"Go empty all thy sacks of grain + Into the nearest sea, +And never show thy face again + To make a mock of me." + +Young Jan Borel, he answered naught, + But in the harbor cast +The sacks of golden corn he brought, + And groaned when fell the last. + +Then Jan Borel, he hoisted sail, + And out to sea he bore; +He passed the Helder in a gale + And came again no more. + +But the grains of corn went drifting down + Like devil-scattered seed, +To sow the harbor of the town + With a wicked growth of weed. + +The roots were thick and the silt and sand + Were gathered day by day, +Till not a furlong out from land + A shoal had barred the way. + +Then Stävoren town saw evil years, + No ships could out or in. +The boats lay rolling at the piers, + And the mouldy grain in the bin. + +The grass-grown streets were all forlorn, + The town in ruin stood, +The lady's velvet gown was torn, + Her rings were sold for food. + +Her father had perished long ago, + But the lady held her pride. +She walked with a scornful step and slow, + Till at last in her rags she died. + +Yet still on the crumbling piers of the town, + When the midnight moon shines free, +A woman walks in a velvet gown + And scatters corn in the sea. + + + + +FLOOD-TIDE OF FLOWERS + +IN HOLLAND + + +The laggard winter ebbed so slow +With freezing rain and melting snow, +It seemed as if the earth would stay +Forever where the tide was low, +In sodden green and watery gray. + +But now from depths beyond our sight, +The tide is turning in the night, +And floods of color long concealed +Come silent rising toward the light, +Through garden bare and empty field. + +And first, along the sheltered nooks, +The crocus runs in little brooks +Of joyance, till by light made bold +They show the gladness of their looks +In shining pools of white and gold. + +The tiny scilla, sapphire blue, +Is gently sweeping in, to strew +The earth with heaven; and sudden rills +Of sunlit yellow, sweeping through, +Spread into lakes of daffodils. + +The hyacinths, with fragrant heads, +Have overflowed their sandy beds, +And fill the earth with faint perfume, +The breath that Spring around her sheds. +And now the tulips break in bloom! + +A sea, a rainbow-tinted sea, +A splendor and a mystery, +Floods o'er the fields of faded gray: +The roads are full of folks in glee, +For lo,--to-day is Easter Day! + + +April, 1916. + + + + +ENTER AMERICA + + + + +AMERICA'S PROSPERITY + + +They tell me thou art rich, my country: gold + In glittering flood has poured into thy chest; + Thy flocks and herds increase, thy barns are pressed +With harvest, and thy stores can hardly hold +Their merchandise; unending trains are rolled + Along thy network rails of East and West; + Thy factories and forges never rest; +Thou art enriched in all things bought and sold! + +But dost _thou_ prosper? Better news I crave. + O dearest country, is it well with thee + Indeed, and is thy soul in health? +A nobler people, hearts more wisely brave, + And thoughts that lift men up and make them free.-- + These are prosperity and vital wealth! + + +The Hague, October 1, 1916. + + + + +THE GLORY OF SHIPS + + +The glory of ships is an old, old song, + since the days when the sea-rovers ran +In their open boats through the roaring surf, + and the spread of the world began; +The glory of ships is a light on the sea, + and a star in the story of man. + +When Homer sang of the galleys of Greece + that conquered the Trojan shore, +And Solomon lauded the barks of Tyre that + brought great wealth to his door, +'Twas little they knew, those ancient men, + what would come of the sail and the oar. + +The Greek ships rescued the West from the East, + when they harried the Persians home; +And the Roman ships were the wings of strength + that bore up the empire, Rome; +And the ships or Spain found a wide new world + far over the fields of foam. + +Then the tribes of courage at last saw clear + that the ocean was not a bound, +But a broad highway, and a challenge to seek + for treasure as yet unfound; +So the fearless ships fared forth to the search, + in joy that the globe was round. + +Their hulls were heightened, their sails spread out. + they grew with the growth of their quest; +They opened the secret doors of the East, + and the golden gates of the West; +And many a city of high renown + was proud of a ship on its crest. + +The fleets of England and Holland and France + were at strife with each other and Spain; +And battle and storm sent a myriad ships + to sleep in the depths of the main; +But the seafaring spirit could never be drowned, + and it filled up the fleets again. + +They greatened and grew, with the aid of steam, + to a wonderful, vast array, +That carries the thoughts and the traffic of men + into every harbor and bay; +And now in the world-wide work of the ships + 'tis England that leads the way. + +O well for the leading that follows the law + of a common right on the sea! +But ill for the leader who tries to hold + what belongs to mankind in fee! +The way of the ships is an open way, + and the ocean must ever be free! + +Remember, O first of the maritime folk, + how the rise of your greatness began. +It will live if you safeguard the round-the-world road + from the shame of a selfish ban; +For the glory of ships is a light on the sea, + and a star in the story of man! + + +September 12, 1916. + + + + +MARE LIBERUM + + +I + +You dare to say with perjured lips, +"We fight to make the ocean free"? +_You_, whose black trail of butchered ships +Bestrews the bed of every sea +Where German submarines have wrought +Their horrors! Have you never thought,-- +What you call freedom, men call piracy! + + +II + +Unnumbered ghosts that haunt the wave, +Where you have murdered, cry you down; +And seamen whom you would not save, +Weave now in weed grown depths a crown +Of shame for your imperious head,-- +A dark memorial of the dead,-- +Women and children whom you sent to drown. + + +III + +Nay, not till thieves are set to guard +The gold, and corsairs called to keep +O'er peaceful commerce watch and ward +And wolves do herd the helpless sheep, +Shall men and women look to thee, +Thou ruthless Old Man of the Sea, +To safeguard law and freedom on the deep! + + +IV + +In nobler breeds we put our trust; +The nations in whose sacred lore +The "Ought" stands out above the "Must," +And honor rules in peace and war. +With these we hold in soul and heart, +With these we choose our lot and part, +Till Liberty is safe on sea and shore. + + +_London Times_, February 12, 1917. + + + + +"LIBERTY ENLIGHTENING THE WORLD" + + +Thou warden of the western gate, above Manhattan Bay, +The fogs of doubt that hid thy face are driven clean away: +Thine eyes at last look far and clear, thou liftest high thy hand +To spread the light of liberty world-wide for every land. + +No more thou dreamest of a peace reserved alone for thee, +While friends are fighting for thy cause beyond the guardian sea; +The battle that they wage is thine; thou fallest if they fall; +The swollen flood of Prussian pride will sweep unchecked o'er all. + +O cruel is the conquer-lust in Hohenzollern brains; +The paths they plot to gain their goal are dark with shameful stains: +No faith they keep, no law revere, no god but naked Might;-- +They are the foemen of mankind. Up, Liberty; and smite! + +Britain, and France, and Italy, and Russia newly born, +Have waited for thee in the night. Oh, come as comes the morn! +Serene and strong and full of faith, America, arise, +With steady hope and mighty help to join thy brave Allies. + +O dearest country of my heart, home of the high desire, +Make clean thy soul for sacrifice on Freedom's altar-fire; +For thou must suffer, thou must fight, until the war-lords cease, +And all the peoples lift their heads in liberty and peace. + + +_London Times_, April 12, 1917. + + + + +THE OXFORD THRUSHES + +FEBRUARY, 1917 + + +I never thought again to hear +The Oxford thrushes singing clear, +Amid the February rain, +Their sweet, indomitable strain. + +A wintry vapor lightly spreads +Among the trees, and round the beds +Where daffodil and jonquil sleep, +Only the snowdrop wakes to weep. + +It is not springtime yet. Alas, +What dark, tempestuous days must pass, +Till England's trial by battle cease, +And summer comes again with peace. + +The lofty halls, the tranquil towers, +Where Learning in untroubled hours +Held her high court, serene in fame, +Are lovely still, yet not the same. + +The novices in fluttering gown +No longer fill the ancient town, +But fighting men in khaki drest-- +And in the Schools the wounded rest. + +Ah, far away, 'neath stranger skies +Full many a son of Oxford lies, +And whispers from his warrior grave, +"I died to keep the faith you gave." + +The mother mourns, but does not fail, +Her courage and her love prevail +O'er sorrow, and her spirit hears +The promise of triumphant years. + +Then sing, ye thrushes, in the rain +Your sweet, indomitable strain. +Ye bring a word from God on high +And voices in our hearts reply. + + + + +HOMEWARD BOUND + + +Home, for my heart still calls me; + Home, through the danger zone; +Home, whatever befalls me, + I will sail again to my own! + +Wolves of the sea are hiding + Closely along the way, +Under the water biding + Their moment to rend and slay. + +Black is the eagle that brands them, + Black are their hearts as the night, +Black is the hate that sends them + To murder but not to fight. + +Flower of the German Culture, + Boast of the Kaiser's Marine, +Choose for your emblem the vulture, + Cowardly, cruel, obscene! + +Forth from her sheltered haven + Our peaceful ship glides slow, +Noiseless in flight as a raven, + Gray as a hoodie crow. + +She doubles and turns in her bearing, + Like a twisting plover she goes; +The way of her westward faring + Only the captain knows. + +In a lonely bay concealing + She lingers for days, and slips +At dusk from her covert, stealing + Thro' channels feared by the ships. + +Brave are the men, and steady, + Who guide her over the deep,-- +British mariners, ready + To face the sea-wolf's leap. + +Lord of the winds and waters, + Bring our ship to her mark, +Safe from this game of hide-and-seek + With murderers in the dark! + + +On the S.S. _Baltic_, May, 1917. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Red Flower, by Henry Van Dyke + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RED FLOWER *** + +This file should be named 8rdfl10.txt or 8rdfl10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, 8rdfl11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, 8rdfl10a.txt + +Produced by Ted Garvin, Tonya Allen and PG Distributed Proofreaders + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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