A sudden mist of unshed tears
Blinded the outlaw's eyes:
Over the hills and far away
Across the hunted years,
He saw in lands of memory
The little upland town arise,
The downs o'er which he wandered with his sheep,
And learned the shepherd-care
'Gainst raids of lion and the bear.
Once more he saw the pastures of green grass
Where he would make his tired flocks lie;
The waters still
That flowed 'twixt hill and hill
Glanced on the inner eye;
Once more he walked the dark fierce pass,
And held his breath
As 'twere the Valley of the Shade of Death,
Yet all the more, with staff and rod,
Before them trod,
And guarded the poor helpless sheep
Through shadows black and deep,
And learned the Shepherd-care of God!

" O for a draught of water from the well
Beside the gate!" The longing fell
Unconscious from his lips. Three heard,
Brake thro' the Philistines with spear and sword,
And from the well of youth
Brought water for his drouth.
Amazed, the outlaw stood,
That men should jeopard life and limb,
At a mere thoughtless word,
For love of him:
" My God forbid that I should drink men's blood!" ...
He poured the water out unto the Lord.


Ah me, until our latest breath,
We must drink draughts of blood and death!
Never a cup of water from the well,
Nor crust of daily bread,
Nor breeze that freshens over hill and dell,
Nor journeying sun from east to west,
Nor daily task, nor nightly rest,
Nor home and love and child and wife,
Nor freedom to hold up the head,
And live our life, —
But is a draught of water from the dead,
The loving cup of blood
From hearts that lie in the last trance,
Yonder, in fields of Flanders and of France!
And we — ah, here's our test! —
Say, shall we drink it down, and laugh, and jest,
Or pour it out upon their native sod,
An offering to their God?