By all the glories of the day And the cool evening's benison, By that last sunset touch that lay Upon the hills when day was done, By beauty lavishly outpoured And blessings carelessly received, By all the days that I have lived Make me a soldier, Lord. By all of all men's hopes and fears, And all the wonders poets sing, The laughter of unclouded years And every sad and lovely thing, By the romantic ages stored With high endeavor that was his, By all his mad catastrophes, Make me a man, O Lord. I, that on my familiar hill Saw with uncomprehending eyes A hundred of thy sunsets spill Their fresh and sanguine sacrifice, Ere the sun swings his noonday sword Must say good-bye to all of this;— By all delights that I shall miss, Help me to die, O Lord. |