The Spike: or, Victoria College Review September 1921
Brother, the dawn you sought died ere it had begun;
Brother, we struggle still beneath a blackened sun.
The blaze you fed to melt the gloom away
Burnt only your own clay;
And through the breach of broken youth
Marched monstrous greed and crowned untruth.
And freedom shrank and honour stank
In this the Day.
Brother, you thought to reach a high hid noon;
Brother, you strove a world's life all too soon.
The stars they set to light you in your tread
Were but dull glints of lead
To numb the heart and weight the soul:
For your desire was not the goal,
But sunken yields in nether fields—
And crops of dead.
Brother, they dunned you of your little hour;
Brother, and diced it for a golden shower.
To them your shining soul and heart's high need
Were only cheap green feed
For their fat beast of fortune, Mars . . . .
And so they sent you higher than the stars,
Where you are free and yet may see
Your brothers freed.
P. J. S.