IN MEMORIAM 
143 
 
Are you ready, sweet ?  Then fold 
 Once your arms about me, cling 
Close and clip me as old— 
 In the presence of the King 
That awaits us.  Love is bold. 
 
We are witness—by our fate— 
 To one poet—is there one ?   
That beyond the miry weight 
 Of the fog there shines a sun !   
Be he comforted thereat !   
 
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 Yea !  I chant your mastery !   
In the hag-ridden, mange-bitten, 
 Sodden, superstitious sty 
That John Milton made of Britain 
 In the twentieth century, 
Two in blood the runes have written— 
 How to love and how to die !   
 
Praise, O Martyrs !  Not one bead 
 Of your strong blood but shall thrill 
In our hearts, and burn and breed 
 Myriad children to your will. 
We will damn the coward’s creed, 
 And the eunuch’s squeaking still, 
Till the world is yours indeed !   
 
Yea !  at last the spell shall break 
 Wherewith Christ and Cromwell bound us