Victoria Grace Blackburn Poems

Above the sunset's many-tinted bar,
Where light on light, a smiling iris gnar,
Mellows to mystery of near and far,
Swings passionately pale the Evening Star!
...

Dead with his face to the foe!'
From Hastings to Yser
Our men have died so.
The lad is a hero–
...

Along the sea shore, surf-beaten and brown,
The Fisher-Lass hastes to the Fishing-Town,
In kirtle of blue and bodice of red,
The sun at its nooning over her head,
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Disdainful Earth!
Hooded in clouds and snowdrifts–
Great gray Earth,
That shivers and gathers her garments!
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Out of the clod of earth
That holds me to this melancholy place,
As ancient servitors
Held flambeaux for their lords
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Clash the cymbals!
String the harp and sound it–
Cymbals and harp, there, you Makers of Music!
...