Classic Poem

I fell asleep and dreamed, and dreaming saw
The gold of ripening meadows and the green
Sweet-scented fields of Flanders, and the dunes
That roll, wind-rippled, to the tumbling sea;
I moved with winding streams through verdant dales
Among smooth hills mantled with waving grain
Where poppies flung bright flames among the wheat
And sturdy lads were binding the full sheaves.
I passed through fragrant orchards rich with fruit,
And paused in cottage gardens where the bees
Boomed languidly down long sweet lanes of flowers;
Came then to white-walled villages and towns
By rapid waters where the hum of wheels
Bespoke the wholesome industry of men,
Saw quaint and crowded cities teem by day
And dream by night under the wheeling stars —
Old cities full of wisdom, wealth and years,
With minsters pointing proudly to the skies
From whose great spires chimed melodious bells
Proclaiming: " On earth peace, good-will to men!
Saw cozy chimney-nooks where pipes are lit
And children play at candled evenfall,
And moonlit streets and winding shadowy ways,
Young men and maids and many a tender scene.
Then with this peaceful vision in the mind
I stirred, and smiling, quietly awoke.

The shock of battle rings on Flanders' plain!
On Brabant's fields of gold a storm has burst
Like none the troubled earth has seen before:
The rain is hot, the raindrops are of steel,
And from the riven sky and sulphurous night
Red shafts of fire split the ringing gloom;
Unnatural thunder rolls upon the hills, —
The earth groans under greater blows than Thor's!
In Flanders now the winding streams run red,
Those fertile fields are dyed with tragic blood,
And ripening orchards sweet with lingering fruit,
And rye-fields bright with tangled poppy flame
Are crushed and plundered by rude tramping man;
And up and down a bleeding, broken land
War swaggers in its arrogance and claims
Its blindest, costliest human sacrifice,
While its drab hordes, with dull, unholy zest,
Like hungry locusts feed on all that's fair —
Profane the shrines of wisdom and of art
And stultify and freeze the human heart!

Behind stalk hungry Death and gaping Ruin;
Beyond the din, beneath the pall of smoke
Starved children weep bereft, disconsolate ...
The hiss of flames, the roar of falling walls,
The crimson glare, the sacked and blackened homes —
And Freedom shrieks again as Belgium bleeds!
And in the face of this great holocaust,
This brazen breaking of three nations' vows,
This bold denial of man's deep sense of right,
My nation stands bewildred, stung with grief,
Believing not, unwilling to believe!
O, rank and red, unconscionable crime
Born of accursed ignorance and greed,
Nursed by some hooded fear and cult of Might
That fettered Conscience to the iron wheel of State
And drugged her till she knows not what she does,
That conjured up imaginary foes,
That prattled cant, monopolizing God,
That warped the judgment of the common man, —
Seducing Science to its damned ends, —
And with an oath has crucified mankind!
O crime of ages! — youth and youth alone
Can save itself or for our sins atone!

Without thee, Youth, the world's a barren thing;
Fair Helen's eyes were worth a thousand ships,
But has the State such eyes? If so, what shade?
What color have they? Has it form or voice?
Can you embrace it? Nay! Then Youth beware!
Old knaves in purple, envying your strength —
The beauty of your body and your brain —
Will trick you to your death, wishing to see
The world grow old and gray and die with them...
Youth eager with a question on your lips,
Why not ask one defiant question now —
Question the mandate of your murderers,
Question and kill the deadlier common foe?
O, German youth of philosophic mind,
O, poilu from Langue d' Oc or La Vendee, —
From Lyons looms or peaceful Brittany,
And white-cliff'd Albion's slender blue-eyed sons,
Demand an answer to your thundered " Why? " , —
Or in the name of Life refuse to die!


O, God, speak to us! Do we wake or sleep?
It cannot be . . This is some troubled dream
That stalks abroad and haunts our tortured minds.
Shall we awake to find the first dream true? . .
Dear Lord, be kind; let us soon wake to peace!