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SONNETS of THE STRIFE 
 
 With Songs 
 
SONNETS of THE STRIFE 
 
 With Songs 
 
 BY 
 
 ROBERT LOVEMAN 
 
 M 
 WITH 
 
 A FOREWORD BY JOHN BURROUGHS 
 
 THE CORNHILL COMPANY 
 BOSTON 
 
ot% 
 
 Copyright, 1917 K^* 
 By The Cornhill Company \&\ I 
 
 All rights reserved 
 
 OCT 10 |yia 
 
 ©CLA506111 
 
 1-t<0 
 
TO 
 
 MR. AND MRS. MORTON E. JUDD 
 and HUBERT 
 
 WITH AFFECTIONATE REGARD 
 
FOREWORD 
 
 I can gladly stand sponsor for the poetic talent 
 of Robert Loveman. He is a true poet of a rare 
 order, and, though of Hungarian parentage, is a 
 true American. 
 
 These poems suggested by the war strike the 
 note we like to hear on this side of the world — 
 the humanitarian, democratic note, and they strike 
 it with vigor attuned to music. 
 
 " The kings are going, let them go ! " Let every 
 crowned head in Europe roll in the dust, and let 
 the people elect their rulers, and there will be no 
 more war. 
 
 Our author's previous work, especially the thin 
 volume called " The Gates of Silence/' in which 
 occurs that exquisite lyric, " April Rain," and 
 which any poet in the world might be proud to 
 have written, stamp him as a poet of unusual 
 merit. No other singer of our time has essayed 
 deep-sea soundings into the problems of human 
 destiny and done it with a plumet of four-line 
 stanzas, with great ease and gayety of heart, as 
 has Loveman in his " Gates of Silence." Much 
 of it as good as the best in Omar Khayyam. 
 
 vii 
 
In these war poems the martial note is never 
 
 struck, but only the note of human sympathy 
 
 and brotherhood. I am sure that is as his readers 
 
 would have it. 
 
 JOHN BURROUGHS. 
 
 RlVERBY, 
 
 West Park, N. Y. 
 
 via 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 O Set the Nations Free i 
 
 Brothers 3 
 
 The Dead Singer 5 
 
 Columbia 6 
 
 Venus at Dawn 7 
 
 To the President ■ . . 8 
 
 Song 9 
 
 World War io 
 
 Song ii 
 
 When From Hoarse Guns . 12 
 
 The Play 13 
 
 The Rivers 14 
 
 Poland 15 
 
 Invocation 16 
 
 Song 17 
 
 The World Is Mad 18 
 
 The Play 19 
 
 What Will Evolve? 20 
 
 Song 21 
 
 To Henry Ford 22 
 
 Willow Song 23 
 
 Sonnet 24 
 
 Spring Song 25 
 
 ix 
 
PAGE 
 
 Sonnet 26 
 
 For Worship All the Day 27 
 
 Our Days 28 
 
 Song 29 
 
 Song 30 
 
 With Forgiving Tears 31 
 
 O My Brothers 32 
 
 America 33 
 
SONNETS of THE STRIFE 
 
 With Songs 
 
O SET THE NATIONS FREE 
 
 Lord God of Hosts from out whose hand 
 
 the stars are flung afar, 
 Our orb is rent with discontent and torn 
 
 with savage war; 
 
 Come forth in mighty majesty and set the 
 
 nations free, 
 Who grapple to a dismal end in frantic 
 
 ecstasy. 
 
 The wreckage of a thousand ships are 
 
 strewn about the seas, 
 The bombs of death pollute the breath of 
 
 every fragrant breeze; 
 
 Lord God thy planet that was fair is gory 
 
 deep in grime, 
 Our age is one vast blotch of blood upon 
 
 the page of time; 
 
 Hast thou no potent opiate where thy 
 
 pavilion swings, 
 To calm the lust of murder within the 
 
 hearts of kings? 
 
Our joyous earth on tireless wing went 
 
 singing on its way, 
 The widow's wail, the orphan's cry now 
 
 darken all the day. 
 
 Come in thy glory, God, and bid the battle 
 
 sorrows cease, 
 Pour on the wounds of mangled earth the 
 
 healing oil of peace. 
 
 Lord God of Hosts who still hath been our 
 
 buckler and our shield, 
 To loving bonds of brotherhood let now the 
 
 nations yield. 
 
BROTHERS 
 
 O brothers, we are children of the sons of 
 
 man, 
 Valiant, fearful, haughty, tearful, clinging 
 
 close to class or clan, 
 Split in sordid, narrow nations, caught in 
 
 creeds that bless or ban, 
 But brothers, we are brothers of the sons of 
 man. 
 
 O brothers, we are children of the sons of 
 
 man, 
 With step elate the millions march upon 
 
 the battle van; 
 They die like sheep in shambles (dear God, 
 
 send peace again), 
 O brothers, are we brothers of the sons of 
 
 men? 
 
 The fleets of air that journey fair, on joyous 
 
 mission bent, 
 Now fling their death darts flaming, from 
 
 the fiery firmament; 
 Where soft the ocean billows breathe, or 
 
 where the breakers swell, 
 Squat on their hips, the battleships, are 
 
 baying hounds of hell. 
 
O brothers, 'tis the mothers who are 
 
 martyred at the guns, 
 Europa's soul is stricken with the slaughter 
 
 of her sons, 
 The great world heart is heavy (dear God, 
 
 send peace again), 
 And brothers still be brothers of the sons of 
 
 men. 
 
THE DEAD SINGER 
 
 Here let the wood dove softly coo, 
 
 Here let the willow weep, 
 Here where the winds and waters woo, 
 
 The singer dreams in sleep. 
 
 The music of his magic lute 
 Aroused the world to song, 
 
 Now that the singer's lips are mute, 
 About his bier they throng. 
 
 He hears, he feels, in sleep he smiles, 
 Through dusk and dawning dim, 
 
 Adown the hushed forest aisles 
 They bring their songs to him. 
 
COLUMBIA 
 
 COLUMBIA, though all the world doth 
 
 rage, 
 Thou art our rock of everlasting peace; 
 
 When the grim grapple of the Czars shall 
 
 cease 
 And Slav and Teuton stagger from the stage 
 Bespoiled sisters of a shamed age, — 
 
 Thy fields shall flower and thy bounds 
 
 increase 
 In hereditaments of loving lease; 
 
 Oh let thy holy purpose still engage 
 To be pacificator of all men, 
 
 Thy ports the haven of the meek and low, 
 Thy happy hearthstones ever radiant when 
 The children gather at the firelight glow; 
 
 COLUMBIA! rear thou each loyal son, 
 
 Of Lincoln's mould, and mighty Washington. 
 
VENUS AT DAWN 
 
 Poor Venus, dying, faint, afar, 
 Dear paling, fading morning star, 
 In the gay east there flames a feast 
 Of fiery light engulfing night, 
 And you I deemed so lustrous fair 
 Have perished in the morning air; 
 Gulp'd down like any tiny mouse 
 That Wumpus finds about the house ; 
 I came to see a sunrise rare, 
 With pomp and glory everywhere, — 
 But vanished Venus, just between us, — 
 That burly sun cannot bemean us; 
 Soft; — meet me ere the full blown morn, 
 We'll hold the blusterer in scorn; 
 Til strew thy bier with longings gray, 
 When thou dost die into the day. 
 
TO THE PRESIDENT 
 
 O Pilot of the great ship of our State, 
 Thy God sustain thee in this turbid day, 
 The wrangling elements beset thy way, 
 
 The waters of the world are rife with hate; 
 
 O Pilot, some vast purpose of wise fate 
 
 Hath set thee at the helm, and bids thee 
 
 stay 
 Calm, brave, undaunted, until reason's ray 
 
 The wrack allay, the tempest dissipate; 
 
 O Pilot, thee thy children fond, revere, 
 
 Secure in their firm trust, thou canst ne'er 
 
 fail 
 To weather ev'ry wind and warring gale 
 
 Until the harbor of sweet peace be near; 
 
 Guide thou the ship of State, majestic, free, 
 The banners at the mast are Love and Liberty. 
 
 8 
 
SONG 
 
 Not in far lands agleam with snow or sun, 
 Doth paradisial joys exultant lie, 
 Lo, at thy feet the homely blisses run, 
 Above thee bends the fond, familiar sky. 
 
 Not in the orient or adown the west 
 
 Hope, happiness, and fruited peace are found, 
 
 At thy warm hearthstone dwell repose and 
 
 rest, 
 Thy fragrant garden is the hallowed ground. 
 
WORLD WAR 
 
 The kings are going, there will be no kings 
 When compt shall come for all this bloody 
 
 day; 
 Out of the carnage and the sanguine fray 
 
 Are looming portents of compulsive things; 
 
 Vast are the tidings my Marconi brings, 
 The heirs of Hapsburg banisht in dismay, 
 The Romanovs are fleeing ashen gray, 
 
 The children starve, there are bread riotings, 
 
 The house of Hohenzollern is laid low, 
 The kings are going, let them swiftly go ; 
 
 A stricken world in horror and despair 
 Sickens of hate and venomed mutterings, 
 
 Of court and clique, and damned intrigue 
 there, 
 The kings are going, there must be no kings. 
 
 10 
 
SONG 
 
 Give all thou hast, go get thee more, 
 
 And still persist in giving; 
 
 Give gold, give love, give sympathy, 
 
 'Tis very bliss of living; 
 
 The flowers freely fragrance breathe, 
 
 The seas pour out their store, 
 
 Clouds rise and swell upon the skies, 
 
 To give, and give the more. 
 
 Give all thy mind, give all thy soul, 
 
 Give all thy teeming brain, 
 
 When thou hast parted with the whole, 
 
 The best doth yet remain ; 
 
 Give all thy days, give all thy years, 
 
 Give all thy joy, give all thy tears, 
 
 All that thou hast, O mortal give, 
 
 This only is the way to live. 
 
 ii 
 
WHEN FROM HOARSE GUNS 
 
 When from hoarse guns the iron clamor dies, 
 And tatter'd nations shiver in dismay, 
 What will be said of this decadent day, 
 Besotted in its damn'd atrocities? 
 
 What must the cynic gods in startled skies 
 To all this futile, wild alarum say? 
 The Briton, Turk and Teuton fondly pray 
 Each for his arms, the winged victories; 
 
 Our orphaned age is smit with serried woe, 
 Art, music, science, lagging at the rear, 
 Pale pestilence about the field doth go, 
 Gaunt famine follows with a hungry leer; 
 
 O time! O day! O age! a thousand years 
 Cannot erase the heartache, blood and tears. 
 
 12 
 
THE PLAY 
 
 The Play's the thing, 
 And Life's the play, 
 The curtain rises 
 With the day; 
 Morning is youth, 
 At noon, a rune of June, 
 Then manhood's 
 Mighty afternoon. 
 
 The Play's the thing, 
 Life is the Play, 
 Lascivious Autumn 
 Comes in gray, 
 Mauve, olive, ivory, — 
 Russet, brown, — 
 Old gray-beard, 
 Ring the curtain down. 
 
 13 
 
THE RIVERS 
 
 The rivers of the war-lands in dismay 
 Are mournful watchers of distress and woe; 
 There tenderly the weeping Rhine doth flow 
 In sympathy upon her wand'ring way; 
 The tearful Thames arrayed in somber gray 
 Majestic murmurs requiems soft and low, 
 The while her sister Seine in grief doth go 
 Singing in rhythmic sorrow of the fray; 
 The Danube drinks her dark draught to the 
 
 lees, 
 The Neva's breast doth surge with heavy 
 
 tide, 
 O woeful hour! in bloody days as these 
 The savage race of man in shame should hide ; 
 Poor troubled rivers whilst thy children die 
 How can sun, moon, or stars illume the sky? 
 
 14 
 
POLAND 
 
 (1916) 
 
 There is a God in Israel, 
 
 He seemeth far away 
 
 From courts and kings and princes 
 
 Who govern us today ; 
 
 There is a God in Israel, 
 
 But what can one God do 
 
 With all the frantic bedlam 
 
 Of all the crazy crew? 
 
 There is a God in Israel, 
 
 Sooner or late he comes, 
 
 A widowed, orphaned, ravisht peace 
 
 Follows the muffled drums ; 
 
 Dear God who was in Israel, 
 
 Come visit us today, — 
 
 There is a God in Israel, 
 
 He seemeth far away. 
 
 15 
 
INVOCATION 
 
 The Sheik-ul-Islam at the Serail Mosque 
 Prays Mahmud, grace unto the Ottoman; 
 His brother Teuton fervently doth ask 
 Herr Gott for habitation neath the sun; 
 
 To Le Bon Dieu, the Frenchman fondly cries, 
 That he may spurn the bold invader forth, 
 And Albion's sons assail the patient skies 
 With pleas to God, as much or little worth; 
 
 The Maharajas of the golden Ind, 
 Perturbed folk of ev'ry land and clime, 
 Send supplication over wave and wind ; — 
 O deities bedazed! O parlous time! 
 
 Somewhere perchance, tender or savage 
 
 prayers 
 Are treasured by the gods with pitying tears. 
 
 16 
 
SONG 
 
 I thank thee, God, that I was strong, 
 That life leap'd lusty in my blood, 
 
 For ev'ry thrush or linnet song, 
 
 For love and all our nestling brood. 
 
 I bless thee, God, that I am old, 
 
 And bent and poor, and weak and blind 
 
 I drained the chalices of gold, 
 Firmly I face the leaden wind. 
 
 n 
 
 \ 
 
THE WORLD IS MAD 
 
 The world is mad, the nations are insane, 
 Stark bedlam reigns o'er half the frantic 
 
 earth, 
 The womb of Time doth give prodigious birth 
 To monstrous deeds upon the land and main; 
 
 The frowning hosts of Mars have all the gain, 
 Our smiling arts of peace have little worth ; — 
 Banisht the soft designs of joyous mirth, 
 Europa, frenzied, writhes in tragic pain! 
 
 COLUMBIA, be thou steadfast, patiently 
 With love and pity view the startling fray; 
 Saints, villains, heroes, all commingled be 
 In the death-grapple for world mastery; 
 
 Dear God, speed thou the most auspicious 
 
 day 
 When Might shall lay his boastful power away. 
 
 18 
 
THE PLAY 
 
 The throngs that jostle in the street. 
 
 Are people in a play, 
 
 The tragic and the humorous, 
 
 The grievous and the gay ; 
 
 Youth and doddering dotard, 
 
 Moonlight, storm or sun, 
 
 Ring up the magic curtain, 
 
 The play has just begun. 
 
 Sweet melodies insistent 
 Pervade the mise en scene. 
 Sunshine clothed in shadow, 
 Snow white or willow green ; 
 Heroes, clowns and villain, 
 Dusk drowns the weary sun, — 
 Ring down the twilight curtain, 
 The play of life is done. 
 
 19 
 
WHAT WILL EVOLVE? 
 
 What will evolve from out this hellish strife, 
 The loot, the pillage, and the mad rapine? 
 Some final good, some lofty goal serene, 
 Must be for all who here inherit life. 
 
 What world-wide sunlit revolution rife 
 Of liberty and love doth lurk unseen? 
 The body-politic is foul, unclean, 
 The fester splutters to the surgeon's knife. 
 
 Perchance the peasant and the toiler low, 
 May rise to stature of enfranchised men, 
 Europa's humble millions soon may know 
 Fair freedom breaking over bog and fen. 
 
 If it be so, dear God, not all in vain, 
 
 The vast procession of the maimed and slain. 
 
 20 
 
SONG 
 
 Leaf of the tree, wave of the sea, 
 Beam of the star, and breezes free, 
 Light of the morn, grace of the thorn, 
 How can the bosom feel forlorn? 
 The lush warm grass, and birds that pass, 
 Love of the lad, faith of the lass, 
 Over us all the sun's bright eye, 
 In the blue of the summer sky. 
 
 Bower, tower, flower and hour, 
 Dower of health, fame and power, 
 Charity, hope, and peace and rest, 
 Thrilling with joy the eager breast, 
 The day and night in happy flight, 
 The noon of June, a dream delight, 
 And life and death a joyous song, 
 For him who knows nor hate nor wrong. 
 
 21 
 
TO HENRY FORD 
 
 When the grim war lords and their jealousies 
 Are buried with the muck and trash of time, 
 Thy dream that came immortal and sublime 
 Shall still illume the blood-stained centuries; 
 
 The little men make mock of lofty deed, 
 The gun-men vend their iron chattel still, 
 One beam doth gleam while all the world doth 
 
 bleed, 
 Thy light of love set on hope's highest hill ; 
 
 Be undismayed, the dream shall yet avail, 
 Nations unborn will laud thy peaceful prayer, 
 The craft sent forth into the hateful gale 
 Will anchor in fame's harbor calm and fair; 
 
 O strive again, beyond the tumult's rage, 
 Hist'ry for thee shall keep her whitest page. 
 
 22 
 
WILLOW SONG 
 
 Willow, willow, in the spring, 
 When my heart is hungering, 
 First of all thou then art seen 
 In a shimmering gown of green, 
 Then full soon that thou art found, 
 Thy garments trailing to the ground. 
 Do dryads deem thee, flowing there, 
 An emerald fountain in the air? 
 Ne'er a willow weeps for me, 
 Thou gracile, verdant ecstasy, 
 But in rapt beauty thou dost gleam, 
 O'er the meadow, by the stream; 
 Willow, willow, in the spring, 
 When my heart is hungering. 
 
 23 
 
SONNET 
 
 Now that the eve is tranquil, calm, and still, 
 Now that the goal I sought in youth, finds 
 
 me, 
 Now that the benison of rock and tree, 
 The comrad'ry of valley and of hill 
 With a vast surge of sympathy doth thrill 
 My soul to overflow, and every sea 
 Murmurs again an olden melody, — 
 The dawn doth prophesy, and dusk fulfill ; 
 Beach'd in the port of peace my heart doth 
 
 dwell, 
 War's tumult seems an eager infant's play, 
 I watch, I wait, my peaceful beads I tell, 
 While down the west recedes majestic day; 
 O Youth, O Love, O Age, the world is fair, 
 Host upon host of glories throng the air. 
 
 24 
 
SPRING SONG 
 
 A balmy hint, then from the mint 
 
 Of April comes a flood 
 Of dandelion riches, 
 
 Making opulent the wood; 
 They cluster in a fluster — 
 
 How good the grasses feel! • 
 The Croesus Spring his gold doth fling, 
 
 The winter's hurt to heal. 
 
 The daffodils are redolent 
 
 With hope and happiness, 
 The jonquils beatific 
 
 In a becoming dress; 
 The mellow, yellow flowers 
 
 Make a fellow feel benign; 
 I owe no debt of vain regret — 
 
 Old Midas' store is mine. 
 
 25 
 
SONNET 
 
 Great themes and deeds surge o'er me, I 
 
 stand lone 
 On Pisgah gazing to the promised land, 
 Or on the banisht, bleak, Helena strand, 
 Looking to seaward with Napoleon ; 
 
 The airs of Egypt waft my galleon 
 Where Cleopatra lies by houris fanned, 
 Or at a statue's base I stricken stand 
 And find the mighty Caesar, bleeding, prone; 
 
 A vast procession of immortal men 
 And gorgeous women come within my ken ; 
 O Life, I cry, what art thou, where dost lead? 
 Where are these restless souls, and where 
 
 shall I 
 Quitting the hill-top and the pleasing mead, 
 Is it but death, — or life anew to die? 
 
 26 
 
FOR WORSHIP ALL THE DAY 
 
 Every tree's a shrine to me, 
 
 Each rock a temple rare, 
 
 Each holy nook by hill or brook 
 
 Is dedicate to prayer; 
 
 Along go song with every hour, 
 
 And flower by the way, 
 
 Each sacred space is time and place 
 
 For worship all the day. 
 
 Every star doth gleam afar 
 
 On altar of the night; 
 
 The priestess moon in silver shoon 
 
 Doth bless each peaceful light; 
 
 Anon the dawn doth bloom again, 
 
 The east in glad array, — 
 
 Up valiant, happy heart and strong, 
 
 For worship all the day. 
 
 27 
 
OUR DAYS 
 
 Our days are not for puny men or things, 
 For pigmy thought or idle prose or rhyme, 
 Blazoned upon the red shield of our time, 
 
 Behold the death throes of the grappling kings; 
 
 War's cauldrons hot with hated venomings, 
 Europa clad in bloody garb of grime, 
 Her sons steeped deep in filth, disease and 
 slime 
 
 Mid livid guns' tumultuous thunderings; 
 
 A creeping, crawling, cringing peace then 
 
 comes 
 Behind the bluster of the blatant drums; 
 
 There is no God of battle; Satan's throne 
 Is builded by the souls who cherish war, 
 
 Hell groans with music of the dying moan, 
 Its mad dominion all one hid'ous scar. 
 
 28 
 
SONG 
 
 I'm weary with the war, I'll to my garden go, 
 And watch the blossoms and the buds ablow; 
 
 I'm sick of strife, I'll love the lilac more, 
 And gay wisteria shall adorn my door; 
 
 I'm neutral, let the foolish fight, who will, 
 For me wild flower flags wave on the hill ; 
 
 I am a non-combatant and I see 
 Ahead of me a violet victory. 
 
 I'm weary of the war, peace I declare, 
 
 Of spoil and possession I demand no share. 
 
 Hark! Lo, a redbird in the green wood tree, 
 His song the paean of delight for me. 
 
 29 
 
SONG 
 
 Sing in the morning, 
 And sing in the night ; 
 Sing away scorning, 
 And sing in delight ; 
 Sing away sorrow, 
 And sing away slight, 
 Tomorrow, tomorrow, 
 Thy woes may laugh light 
 
 Sing on, and sing ever, 
 Heart of my heart, 
 Shadow shall never 
 Grieve us apart ; 
 Sing to me, cling to me, 
 Heart of my heart, 
 Sing 'til it bring to me 
 Love, and love's art. 
 
 30 
 
WITH FORGIVING TEARS 
 
 When Zepp'lins have laid London waste, 
 then must 
 Berlin the beautiful as surely go ; 
 Edith Cavell, sweet martyr saint, doth know 
 High Heaven is but for those who love and 
 trust; 
 
 Foremost among the phalanx of the just 
 Who for ideals strike heroic blow, 
 The bold Knight Casement doth immortal 
 show, 
 
 His proud soul rising from melodious dust ; 
 
 Brave Fryatt follows, at the dawn of day 
 He mounts heroic to the stars away; 
 
 When frantic man has spent his futile rage 
 Upon his brother, and the book of fears 
 
 Is closed, dear God, seal thou the page 
 Of sorrow with forgiving tears. 
 
 3i 
 
O MY BROTHERS! 
 
 O my brothers gaunt and grappling to the 
 
 death across the sea, 
 Every wave of ocean bears the woe and sorrow 
 
 unto me; 
 O my brothers is not life and all the sunlight 
 
 fair? — 
 O my brothers, blinded, bruised, broken 
 
 everywhere. 
 
 O my brothers of the old world across the 
 
 yearning sea, 
 The horror and the pity of the struggle comes 
 
 to me; 
 Hath not God unto us given earth to be a 
 
 garden fair? — 
 And the tribes of neighbor nations crying, 
 
 dying everywhere. 
 
 O my brothers, Turk or Teuton, Anglo- 
 Franco, Russ or Hun, 
 
 Children of the old earth mother, sired at the 
 morning sun ; 
 
 Is there ne'er an end to strife and murder 
 darkening the air? — 
 
 With God's vast and kindly presence pleading 
 sweet peace everywhere. 
 
 32 
 
AMERICA 
 
 The fairest land, the rarest land, 
 
 The land we love the best, 
 Is our own land that staunch doth stand 
 
 A tower in the west ; 
 An ocean wide on either side, 
 
 The gulf beneath her feet, 
 The very name, AMERICA, 
 
 Doth make our pulses beat. 
 
 The sweetest land, the fleetest land, 
 
 The land where freedom dwells 
 Is our own land of mountains, 
 
 And clover covered dells; 
 One joyous, vast Republic, 
 
 God! how we cherish her, 
 The very name, AMERICA, 
 
 Doth make our bosoms stir. 
 
 AMERICA, AMERICA, 
 
 O may we die for thee, 
 Proclaiming unto all the earth 
 
 Our love of liberty ; 
 AMERICA, AMERICA, 
 
 Our banner is unfurled, 
 Thy paean of democracy 
 
 Shall ring about the world. 
 
 33 
 
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