Robert Nichols

Amazement fills my heart to-night, Amaze and awful fears; I am a ship that sees no light, But blindly onward steers. Flung toward heaven’s toppling rage, Sunk between steep and steep, A lost and wondrous fight I wage With the embattled deep. I neither know nor care at length Where drives the storm about; Only I summon all my strength And swear to ride it out. Yet give I thanks; despite these wars. My ship—though blindly blown, Long lost to sun or moon or stars— Still stands up alone. I need no trust in borrowed spars; My strength is yet my own.

Suddenly with a shy, sad grace She turns to me her lighted face, And I, who hear some idle phrase, Watch how her wry lips move And guess that the poor words they frame Mean naught for they would speak the same Message I read in the dark flame Within her eyes, which say, “I love.” But I can only turn away. I, that have heard the deep voice break Into a sing-song, sobbing shake, Whose flutter made my being quake, What ears have I for women's cries? I, that have seen the turquoise glaze Fixed in the blue and quivering gaze Of one whom cocaine cannot daze, How can I yield to women's eyes? I, who can only turn away. I, that have held strong hands which palter, Borne the full weight of limbs that falter, Bound live flesh on the surgeon's altar, What need have I of women's hand? I, that have felt the dead's embrace? I, whose arms were his resting-place? I, that have kissed a dead man's face? Ah, but how should you understand? Now I can only turn away.

Last night rain fell over the scarred plateau And now from the dark horizon, dazzling, flies Arrow on fire-plumed arrow to the skies Shot from the bright arc of Apollo's bow; And from the wild and writhen waste below, From flashing pools and mounds lit one by one, O is it mist or are these companies Of morning heroes who arise, arise With thrusting arms, with limbs and hair aglow Toward the risen god, upon whose brow Burns the gold laurel of all victories, Hero and hero's god, th' invincible Sun?

Not a sign of life we rouse In any square close-shuttered house That flanks the road we amble down Toward far trenches through the town. The dark, snow-slushy, empty street ... Tingle of frost in brow and feet ... Horse-breath goes dimly up like smoke. No sound but the smacking stroke Of a sergeant flings each arm Out and across to keep him warm, And the sudden splashing crack Of ice-pools broken by our track. More dark houses, yet no sign Of life ... An axle’s creak and whine ... The splash of hooves, the strain of trace ... Clatter: we cross the market place. Deep quiet again, and on we lurch Under the shadow of a church: Its tower ascends, fog-wreathed and grim; Within its aisles a light burns dim ... When, marvellous! from overhead, Like abrupt speech of one deemed dead, Speech-moved by some Superior Will, A bell tolls thrice and then is still. And suddenly I know that now The priest within, with shining brow, Lifts high the small round of the Host. The server’s tingling bell is lost In clash of the greater overhead. Peace like a wave descends, is spread, While watch the peasants’ reverent eyes ... The bell’s boom trembles, hangs, and dies. O people who bow down to see The Miracle of Calvary, The bitter and the glorious, Bow down, bow down and pray for us. Once more our anguished way we take Toward our Golgotha, to make For all our lovers sacrifice. Again the troubled bell tolls thrice. And slowly, slowly, lifted up Dazzles the overflowing cup. O worshipping, fond multitude, Remember us too, and our blood. Turn hearts to us as we go by, Salute those about to die, Plead for them, the deep bell toll: Their sacrifice must soon be whole. Entreat you for such hearts as break With the premonitory ache Of bodies, whose feet, hands, and side, Must soon be torn, pierced, crucified. Sue for them and all of us Who the world over suffer thus, Who have scarce time for prayer indeed, Who only march and die and bleed. * The town is left, the road leads on, Bluely glaring in the sun, Toward where in the sunrise gate Death, honour, and fierce battle wait.