THE ONGOING

“Loose me from fear and make me see aright How each has back what once he stayed to weep— Homer his sight, David his little lad.”

He will not come, the gallant flying boy, Back to his field. Somewhere he wings his way Where the Immortals keep; where Homer now Has back his sight, David his little lad; Where all those are we dully call the dead, Who have gone greatly on some shining quest, He takes his way. That which he quested for, That larger freedom of a larger birth, Captains him, flying into fields of dawn. He has gone on where now the soldier-slain Arise in light. Somewhere he takes his place And leads his comrades in untrodden fields. For never can these rest until our earth Has ceased from travail—never can these take Their fill of sleep until the Scourge is slain. And so they keep them sometimes near old ways In the accustomed fields—now flying low, Invisible, they cheer the gallant hosts, Bidding them be, as they, invincible. He will come never back! But we who watched Him take the upper air and steer his boundless path Firmly against the foe, we know that here Death could not penetrate. Life only is Where all is life, and so, before us, keeps Always the vision of his faring on To unpathed fields where his great comrades wait, And, joyful, take him for their captaining— The brave Adventurer, The gallant flying Boy! MARY SIEGRIST.