"With the bridle on the pommel meet the foemen

as they come,

"To the rhythm, dashing rhythm,

"To the rhythm, crashing rhythm

"To the crashing, dashing rhythm
"Of the drum!"

There's an echo shakes the valley o'er the rhythm deep and slow

Of the drum, of the drum,

'Tis the guns, the guns a-rolling on the bridges down below,

Here they come, here they come,

Hark the felloes grind and lumber through the shadows gray and umber,

And the triple spans a-panting up the slope the stones encumber,

66

With the rhythm, distant rhythm, of the

drum.

"Tis the long Shapes of Fear that the moonlight silvers here,

"And the jolting limber's weighted with the silent

cannoneer,

"Tis the Pipes of Peace are passing, O ye people, give an ear!"

Says the rhythm, iron rhythm, of the drum.
"They are rhythm, thunder rhythm, and they
do not need me with 'em,

"That can overtone my choir like the bourdon
from the spire.

"Avant-garde am I to these Lords of Dreadful Revelries,

"Iron Cyclops with an eye to confound the earth and sky.

"Love and Fear, Love and Fear, neither one but both revere,

"And whatever grace ye deal let it be from courts of steel,

"Set the guns' emplacement then to expound the Law to men,"

Says the rhythm, iron rhythm of the drum. "O ye coiners, sentence-joiners, in a fatted, tradesman's land,

"Here's evangel Pentecostal that all nations under

stand.

"When they speak before the battle fools and theories are dumb!"

God be with 'em, and the rhythm,

And the rhythm, iron rhythm,

And the rolling thunder rhythm
Of the drum!

There's a rhythm still and toneless with the wind amid the green,

Of the drum, muffled drum,

And there's arms reversed, and something, 'neath a flag that goes between

As they come, as they come.

"Just a soldier, nothing more, such as all the ages

bore

"And as time and tide shall bear them till the sun be sere and hoar,"

Says the rhythm, muffled rhythm, of the drum. "No more am I requiring of the keen brazen lyring

"Then 'taps' from the bugle-some shots for the

firing.

"Hats off; stand aside; it is all I'm desiring,"

Says the rhythm, muffled rhythm, of the drum. "I am rhythm, muffled rhythm; long and deep farewell go with him,

"Hands that bore their portion through tasks our nature needs must do,

"Feet that stepped the ancient rhyme of the battle-march of Time.

"Blood or tribute, steel or gold, still Vae Victis as of old,

"Stern and curt the message runs taught to sons and sons of sons.

"Chair à canon, would you call? What else are we, one and all?

"Write it thus to close his span: 'Here there lies a fighting man,'"

Says the rhythm, muffled rhythm, of the drum. "O ye farms upon the hillside, and ye cities by the

sea,

"With the laughter of young mothers and their babes about the knee,

""Tis a heart that once beat for you that is passing, still and dumb,

"To the rhythm, muffled rhythm,

"To the rhythm, solemn rhythm,
"To the slow and muffled rhythm
"Of the drum!"

Reprinted by permission of the author from Poems of the Great War, published by the Yale University Press.

A Song of Sherwood

Alfred Noyes

Alfred Noyes was born at Staffordshire, England, in 1880, and was educated at Oxford. He has published several volumes of poetry, his works being collected in 1913, and published by Frederick A. Stokes Company, New York. Noyes is noted for his musical rhythms.

Sherwood Forest, in Nottinghamshire, England, formerly of large extent, was the principal scene of the legendary exploits of Robin Hood. If you visualize the scene by reviewing the stories of Robin Hood, no difficulty will be found in reading this beautiful

poem.

SHERWOOD in the twilight! Is Robin Hood awake? Gray and ghostly shadows are gliding through the brake,

Shadows of the dappled deer, dreaming of the morn, Dreaming of a shadowy man that winds a shadowy

horn.

Robin Hood is here again: all his merry thieves Hear a ghostly bugle-note shivering through the leaves,

Calling as he used to call, faint and far away,
In Sherwood, in Sherwood, about the break of day.

Merry, merry England has kissed the lips of June:
All the wings of fairyland were here beneath the

moon,

Like a flight of rose-leaves fluttering in a mist
Of opal and ruby and pearl and amethyst.

Merry, merry England is waking as of old,
With eyes of blither hazel and hair of brighter gold:

For Robin Hood is here again beneath the bursting

spray

In Sherwood, in Sherwood, about the break of day.

Love is in the greenwood building him a house
Of wild rose and hawthorn and honeysuckle boughs:
Love is in the greenwood, dawn is in the skies,
And Marian is waiting with a glory in her eyes.

Hark! The dazzled laverock climbs the golden steep!

Marian is waiting: is Robin Hood asleep?

Round the fairy grass-rings frolic elf and fay,
In Sherwood, in Sherwood, about the break of day.

Oberon, Oberon, rake away the gold,

Rake away the red leaves, roll away the mould,
Rake away the gold leaves, roll away the red,
And wake Will Scarlett from his leafy forest
bed.

Friar Tuck and Little John are riding down together With quarter-staff and drinking-can and gray goosefeather.

The dead are coming back again, the years are rolled away

In Sherwood, in Sherwood, about the break of day.

Softly over Sherwood the south wind blows.
All the heart of England hid in every rose
Hears across the greenwood the sunny whisper leap,
Sherwood in the red dawn, is Robin Hood asleep?