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(_Southampton Docks_: _October_, 1899)
HERE, where Vespasian's legions struck the sands, / And Cerdic with his Saxons entered in, / And Henry's army leapt afloat to win / Convincing triumphs over neighbour lands,
Vaster battalions press for further strands, / To argue in the self-same bloody mode / Which this late age of thought, and pact, and code, / Still fails to mend. -Now deckward tramp the bands, / Yellow as autumn leaves, alive as spring; / And as each host draws out upon the sea / Beyond which lies the tragical To-be, / None dubious of the cause, none murmuring,
Wives, sisters, parents, wave white hands and smile, / As if they knew not that they weep the while.