TO THE MEMORY OF FIELD-MARSHAL EARL KITCHENER

Soldier of England, you who served her well And in that service, silent and apart, Achieved a name that never lost its spell Over your country's heart;— Who saw your work accomplished ere at length Shadows of evening fell, and creeping Time Had bent your stature or resolved the strength That kept its manhood prime;— Great was your life, and great the end you made, As through the plunging seas that whelmed your head Your spirit passed, unconquered, unafraid, To join the gallant dead. But not by death that spell could pass away That fixed our gaze upon the far-off goal, Who, by your magic, stand in arms to-day A nation one and whole, Now doubly pledged to bring your vision true Of darkness vanquished and the dawn set free In that full triumph which your faith foreknew But might not live to see. Sir Owen Seaman Reprinted by permission of London "Punch"