Star over Bethlehem - Agatha Christie [29]
We who are Builders in Stone,
Forgers of Metal unknown,
Rulers of All!
From the West we came,
To the West we shall return!
Ra! We are Thy Sons! Thus ’tis decreed:
“With our own kind will we mate, we and our seed.
In whose veins runs the blood of a slave
He shall go down to the grave!”
Lest we grow weak.
From the West we came,
To the West we shall return!
Ra! Father of Strength! Thou who art Life!
Guide Thou our spears in the battle, prosper our Strife!
Yet, when the fight is o’er,
Let us return once more
Back to the West …
A Palm Tree in the Desert
IN the Desert I stand
Alone—always alone …
Whilst around me the shifting sands
Change not from day to day.
And now and again from the far-off lands
Comes a breath that lifts my leaves
In unquenchable hope …
Then, sighing, they sink once more to their rest …
Here by the pool in the Desert
The camels halt and kneel,
Patient and weary …
And the Men of the Desert turn to the East
At the hour of the Midday prayer.
Their weariness stayed and refreshed,
They pass from my sight far into the North,
And only the sands,
The shifting sands of the Desert
Are left …
I have lived through one passionate hour!
Sirocco—Wind of the South—
Like an Avenger came!
Where he had passed
None lifted their heads again …
He clasped me close,
Scorched by his breath,
Tortured in joy,
I gave myself up to be seared and devoured!
A mist of hot sand rose around us
Veiling us close …
Then, like a Flame
Onward he rushed to the North
In that Column of whirling and eddying sand
Which is Death …
Sirocco—Breath of the Desert!
When shalt thou come again?
Return! Return!
The day of Khamsen is past …
And I am left
Here by the pool in the Desert
Alone … always alone …
World Hymn 1914
THUNDER of guns and clash of steel!
Fashion it out with lathe and with wheel.
These are the masters of men today,
Men who created, and men who pay.
A hum in the sky
Where the war birds fly,
Battle, murder, and sudden death,
Women who pray with a catch in their breath,
The God of War is nigh!
Thunder of guns, and clash of steel!
Women who work, and women who kneel,
Crying aloud: “How long, how long?
Before the right shall defeat the wrong?”
Silence and Peace,
Rest and Release!
Hearts that are fainting beneath the strain
Call upon Heaven in passionate pain,
Call to the God of Peace.
Thunder of guns, and clash of steel!
All the way through, for woe or for weal,
The throb of a People’s heart that is breaking,
The stir of a People’s soul that is waking …
And beneath the roar
Of the weapons of war,
A Silence set in the midst of Sound …
And a Voice that shall never again be drowned …
The Unknown God is speaking …
Easter 1918
LET us today know only great rejoicing,
Nor mourn our gallant dead, so young and gay
Like Easter flowers
That stand in youthful vigour straight and golden,
Those Easter flowers which fill the world today!
Let now be ours
The wider vision (though our eyes be holden)
The deeper understanding that shall see
Death as a change which comes at Life’s beginning,
A joyous rushing of young souls set free …
Let us not mar the splendour of their going!
Their loving and their laughter shall not cease.
So shall we almost hear, for ever growing
Out of the silent darkness day by day,
The rushing sound of a triumphant massing!
Oh! let us then acclaim that valiant passing
Which some call Death—and others name Release!
To a Beautiful Old Lady
DRIED roseleaves for your lips,
Grey ashes for your hair,
Cold sapphires for your shrewd old eyes
Which looked on life so calmly wise
And never knew a tear.
Old