"What I spent I had; what I saved, I lost; what I gave, I have."
But yesterday the tourney, all the eager joy of life,
The waving of the banners, and the rattle of the spears,
The clash of sword and harness, and the madness of the strife;
To-night begin the silence and the peace of endless years.
(One sings within.)
But yesterday the glory and the prize,
And best of all, to lay it at her feet,
To find my guerdon in her speaking eyes:
I grudge them not, — they pass, albeit sweet.
The ring of spears, the winning of the fight,
The careless song, the cup, the love of friends,
The earth in spring — to live, to feel the light —
'Twas good the while it lasted: here it ends.
Remain the well-wrought deed in honour done,
The dole for Christ's dear sake, the words that fall
In kindliness upon some outcast one, —
They seemed so little: now they are my All.
|About the poet|
|By the same poet|
|In Flanders Fields|
|The Anxious Dead|
|The Unconquered Dead|
|The Song of the Derelict|
|Then and Now|
|The Hope of My Heart|
|The Oldest Drama|
|The Dead Master|
|The Harvest of the Sea|
|The Dying of Pere Pierre|
|A Song of Comfort|
|The Shadow of the Cross|
|The Night Cometh|
|In Due Season|
|John McCrae at amazon.co.uk|