These laid the world away; poured out the red
Sweet wine of youth; gave up the years to be
Of work and joy, and that unhoped serene
That men call age; and those who would have been
Their sons, they gave their immortality.
Blow, bugles, blow! They brought us, for our dearth,
Holiness, lacked so long, and Love, and Pain.
Honour has come back, as a king, to earth,
And paid his subjects with a royal wage;
And Nobleness walks in our ways again,
And we have come into our heritage.
That series of sonnets seems to me to sum up all that is best in our present persuasion. Those who have felt the impulses it expresses will find their convictions confirmed, their nerve strengthened, their pride and their courage redoubled. And those who have never yet felt them will be unable, I hope to God, to read without experiencing a sudden revelation, a revelation that will endow them with a manly mission at last and turn them into exultant Crusaders.
Liverpool Courier, 1915.
