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Full text of ' 125 198 POKMS VOLUME TWO QUOTABLE POEMS An Ant h o I o gy of Modern Verse VOLUME TWO COMPILED BY THOMAS CURTIS CLARK i WILLETT, CLARK & COMPANY CHICAGO NEW YORK 1931 Copyright 193 i by WILLETT, CLARK & COMPANY Manufactured in The U. By The Plimpton Frew Norwood, Mass.-LaPorte, Ind.

To My Brother CHARLES PATTON CLARK MEDICAL SCIENTIST AND LOVER OF BEAUTY CONTENTS The poems in this volume are deliberately placed without attempt to classify them either as to subject or author. Pages 1-324 contain 560 poems selected for their quotability, modern tone, and genuine poetic quality. Readers who de- sire to find poems on any particular theme will find ample guidance in the very complete indexes beginning on page 325, including (a) Index of Subjects, pp. (b) Index of Authors, pp. (c) Index of Titles, pp.

(d) Index of First Lines, pp. Detailed acknowledgment to authors and publishers will also be found on p. Vii QUOTABLE POEMS VOLUME TWO They Went Forth to Battle but They Always Fell They went forth to battle but they always fell. Something they saw above the sullen shields. Nobly they fought and bravely, but not well, And sank heart-wounded by a subtle spell. They knew not fear that to the foeman yields, They were not weak, as one who vainly wields A faltering weapon; yet the old tales tell How on the hard-fought field they always fell. It was a secret music that they heard, The murmurous voice of pity and of peace, And that which pierced the heart was but a word, Though the white breast was red-lipped where the sword Pressed a fierce cruel kiss and did not cease Till its hot thirst was surfeited.

Ah these By an unwarlike troubling doubt were stirred, And died for hearing what no foeman heard. They went forth to battle but they always fell.

Their might was not the might of lifted spears. Over the battle-clamor came a spell Of troubling music, and they fought not well.

Their wreaths are willows and their tribute, tears. Their names are old sad stories in men's ears. Yet they will scatter the red hordes of Hell, Who went to battle forth and always fell. Shaemas O'Sheel QUOTABLE POEMS Opportunity In an old city by the storied shores, Where the bright summit of Olympus soars, A cryptic statue mounted toward the light Heel-winged, tip-toed, and poised for instant flight. ' statue, tell your name,' a traveler cried; And solemnly the marble lips replied: ' Men call me Opportunity, I lift My wing&d feet from earth to show how swift My flight, how short my stay How Fate is ever waiting on the way.' ' But why that tossing ringlet on your brow? ' ' That men may seize me any moment: Now, Now is my other name; today my date; O traveler, tomorrow is too late!'