All Souls
THERE'S traffic in the worlds immortal,
For many souls are flying home,
Striving and pushing at the portal
For sight of glorious things to come.
What rout of wings against the sunset?
What rosy plumes the dawning bar?
Heaven's stormed with gay and happy onset
Of youngling things home from the War.
Against the inverted cup of azure,
Against the evening, peach and green,
The frolicsome young souls take their pleasure,
Darting the silver stars between.
Though the old nests be sad, forsaken,
The cotes of Heaven are yet unfilled:
In trees of Heaven as yet untaken
The immortal Loves lift hearts and build.
poem by Katharine Tynan
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Unhousel'd, Unanointed, Unanel'd
When these men must go alone
Sans an absolution,
When their sins are heavy as lead,
Thou Thyself will lift the head ;
Thou, High Priest, wilt whisper low,
Te Absolvo! ere they go.
When there is no sacrifice,
Bread and Wine for Thy disguise,
Come Thou in the Spirit then;
As at Agincourt our men
With desire a blade of grass
Served as Eucharist and Mass.
Lay Thyself the oil on lips,
Limbs and eyes, before the eclipse--
As once Magdalen did to Thee--
And so speed them, safe and free,
To lie down with Thee a while
And to waken to Thy smile.
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poem by Katharine Tynan
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The Predestined
Dear, we might have known you were
To die young--and were we blind
To the light on face and hair?
Dear, so simple and so kind.
You were clean as your own sword
And as straight too and steel true.
In the Army of the Lord
What promotion waits for you!
I can see you where you stand,
Knightly soul, so clean, so brave.
With a new sword in your hand
Where the lilied banners wave.
Flower of simple chivalry,
Marked for honour and for grace;
It was very plain to see
The clear shining of your face.
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poem by Katharine Tynan
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A Connaught Man (For Hugh Maguire)
Lord, when he shall come home from war,
Give him no pastures green,
But a wet wind and a soft wind
With reek of turf between.
Nor let Thy light shine overmuch
Lest that his soul should fret
For the grey mist and silver mist
That he will not forget.
Build him no pearl-white palaces
Nor gardens fair and fine,
Lest for his bare, far-stretching bogs
His home-sick heart should pine.
Not groves, nor any vermeil walks,
Nor flowery pastures pied,
But the great sweep of sky and land
And the hills at eventide.
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poem by Katharine Tynan
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The Fields of France
JESUS CHRIST they chased away
Comes again another day.
Could they do without Him then
His poor lost unhappy men?
He returns and is revealed
In the trenches and the field.
Where the dead lie thick He goes,
Where the brown earth's red as a rose,
He who walked the waters wide
Treads the wine-press, purple-dyed,
Stoops, and bids the piteous slain
That they rise with Him again.
To His breast and in his cloak
Bears the younglings of the flock:
Calls His poor sheep to come home
And His sheep rise up and come.
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poem by Katharine Tynan
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The Young Mother
In dreadful times of tears and war
She sails, a little fixed star,
Or like a little ship she glides
With gentle winds and favouring tides
Up to the harbour bar.
Wrapped in all mild tranquillities
She muses: inward gaze her eyes;
And lest she slip upon a stone
Gabriel or some shining one
Guards her high destinies.
No rumour reaches her at all,
Beyond her safe encompassing wall,
Of a mad world that slays and slays:
She sees a little one that plays
And sleeps at evenfall.
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poem by Katharine Tynan
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The Little Flock
CHRIST, now keep the little flock
Which Thou bad'st not to fear:
Childing women and old folk
And the little children dear.
In this night of Hell revealed
Call them that they run with Thee,
And come out in a green field
Where they gather round Thy knee.
All poor women that give suck,
All that are with child, lead Thou,
By the margins of a brook
Where is daisied peace enow.
Christ, remember now the sick;
Feeble knees and hanging head.
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poem by Katharine Tynan
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Old Song Re-Sung
I saw three ships a-sailing,
A-sailing on the sea,
The first her masts were silver,
Her hull was ivory.
The snows came drifting softly,
And lined her white as wool;
Oh, Jesus, Son of Mary,
Thy Cradle beautiful!
I saw three ships a-sailing,
The next was red as blood,
Her decks shone like a ruby,
Encrimsoned all her wood.
Her main-mast stood up lonely,
A lonely Cross and stark.
Oh, Jesus, Son of Mary,
Bring all men to that ark!
I saw three ships a-sailing.
The third for cargo bore
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poem by Katharine Tynan
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Colours
Blues and greens are my delight
Set in garlands of the white.
When God made the violet
He made nothing better yet.
Lilac and the lavender
Fit for queens of Heaven to wear.
Many russets and the rose,
God be praised for these and those!
For the silvers and the greys
Likewise ye shall give Him praise.
Scarlet is a King's colour
That the King of Kings once wore.
Yet when everything is said,
Bring me neither rose nor red.
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poem by Katharine Tynan
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Speeding
To Ivo Alan Charteris, October 17th, 1915
Requiescat is not my bidding,
That is the weary man's right speeding;
You, O Child, full of life and laughter,
Joy to you now and long days hereafter!
Light of foot, ever running and leaping,
Who would tether your feet to sleeping?
Who would stretch you on a sad bed?
A flying light was your golden head.
Many a game and a goal be given
To you in the playing-fields of Heaven;
Be as you were, a light shape of joy,
Glad in the strength and the grace of a boy.
Dear and young, here's the prayer I pray for you;
Heaven be full of new life and play for you!
Swift as an arrow, light as a swallow,
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poem by Katharine Tynan
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