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| OFTEN I think of you, Jimmy Doane,— | |
| You who, light-heartedly, came to my house | |
| Three autumns, to shoot and to eat a grouse! | |
| |
| As I sat apart in this quiet room, | |
| My mind was full of the horror of war | 5 |
| And not with the hope of a visitor. | |
| |
| I had dined on food that had lost its taste; | |
| My soul was cold and I wished you were here,— | |
| When, all in a moment, I knew you were near. | |
| |
| Placing that chair where you used to sit, | 10 |
| I looked at my book:—Three years to-day | |
| Since you laughed in that seat and I heard you say— | |
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| “My country is with you, whatever befall: | |
| America—Britain—these two are akin | |
| In courage and honour; they underpin | 15 |
| |
| “The rights of Mankind!” Then you grasped my hand | |
| With a brotherly grip, and you made me feel | |
| Something that Time would surely reveal. | |
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| You were comely and tall; you had corded arms, | |
| And sympathy’s grace with your strength was blent; | 20 |
| You were generous, clever, and confident. | |
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| There was that in your hopes which uncountable lives | |
| Have perished to make; your heart was fulfilled | |
| With the breath of God that can never be stilled. | |
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| A living symbol of power, you talked | 25 |
| Of the work to do in the world to make | |
| Life beautiful: yes, and my heartstrings ache | |
| |
| To think how you, at the stroke of War, | |
| Chose that your steadfast soul should fly | |
| With the eagles of France as their proud ally. | 30 |
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| You were America’s self, dear lad— | |
| The first swift son of your bright, free land | |
| To heed the call of the Inner Command— | |
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| To image its spirit in such rare deeds | |
| As braced the valour of France, who knows | 35 |
| That the heart of America thrills with her woes. | |
| |
| For a little leaven leavens the whole! | |
| Mostly we find, when we trouble to seek | |
| The soul of a people, that some unique, | |
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| Brave man is its flower and symbol, who | 40 |
| Makes bold to utter the words that choke | |
| The throats of feebler, timider folk. | |
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| You flew for the western eagle—and fell | |
| Doing great things for your country’s pride: | |
| For the beauty and peace of life you died. | 45 |
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| Britain and France have shrined in their souls | |
| Your memory; yes, and for ever you share | |
| Their love with their perished lords of the air. | |
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| Invisible now, in that empty seat, | |
| You sit, who came through the clouds to me, | 50 |
| Swift as a message from over the sea. | |
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| My house is always open to you: | |
| Dear spirit, come often and you will find | |
| Welcome, where mind can foregather with mind! | |
| |
| And may we sit together one day | 55 |
| Quietly here, when a word is said | |
| To bring new gladness unto our dead, | |
| |
| Knowing your dream is a dream no more; | |
| And seeing on some momentous pact | |
| Your vision upbuilt as a deathless fact. | 60 |
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