If you can bear to hear the truth you've The tumult and the shouting dies; spoken

The captains and the kings depart: Twisted by knaves to make a trap for Still stands Thine ancient sacrifice, fools,

An humble and a contrite heart. Or watch the things you gave your life Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, to broken,

Lest we forget - lest we forget! And stoop and build 'em up with wornout tools.

Far-called, our navies melt away;

On dune and headland sinks the fire: If you can make one heap of all your

Lo, all our pomp of yesterday winnings

Is one with Nineveh and Tyre! And risk it on one turn of pitch-and- Judge of the Nations, spare us yet, toss,

Lest we forget - lest we forget! And lose, and start again at your beginnings

If, drunk with sight of power, we loose And never breathe a word about your Wild tongues that have not Thee in loss;

awe, If you can force your heart and nerve and Such boasting as the Gentiles use, sinew

Or lesser breeds without the Law To serve your turn long after they are Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, gone,

Lest we forget - lest we forget! And so hold on when there is nothing in you

For heathen heart that puts her trust Except the Will which says to them:

In reeking tube and iron shard, "Hold on!”

All valiant dust that builds on dust

And, guarding, calls not Thee to guard, If you can talk with crowds and keep For frantic boast and foolish word

Thy Mercy on Thy People, Lord! Amen. Or walk with Kings nor lose the

common touch, If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt

JOHN MASEFIELD you, If all men count with you, but none

BEAUTY too much; If you can fill the unforgiving minute I HAVE seen dawn and sunset on moors With sixty seconds' worth of distance and windy hills run,

Coming in solemn beauty like slow old Yours is the Earth and everything that's tunes of Spain: in it,

I have seen the lady April bringing the And which is more

you'll be a daffodils, Man, my son!

Bringing the springing grass and the soft

warm April rain.

your virtue

RECESSIONAL

God of our fathers, known of old,

Lord of our far-flung battle-line, Beneath whose awful Hand we hold

Dominion over palm and pine — Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, Lest we forget - lest we forget!

I have heard the song of the blossoms

and the old chant of the sea, And seen strange lands from under the

arched white sails of ships; But the loveliest things of beauty God

ever has showed to me Are her voice, and her hair, and eyes, and

the dear red curve of her lips.