ONCE upon a time, Little Golden-Head, Steeples used to chime, And their chiming said: 'Peace is in the land ? Joy on every hand.' Glowing youths and men Rose and went their ways, Some to hill and glen, Some to shining bays. And they left behind Ills of heart and mind. Oh, but it was sweet Underneath the trees, Bare of throat and feet, Bathed in golden ease, Two and two to lie While the hours went by! Sweet indeed it was Thus to lie and laze, Couched upon the grass Through the shining days ? Sweet to breathe the air, Free of toil and care! On the beaches then, Sporting with the sea, Gathered brown-limbed men Graced like statuary Chiselled by some bold Master hand of old. All were guests of Joy; All his sportive clan ? Here a shouting boy, There a jesting man, While the breakers hymned, Braving them, stout-limbed. Listen, Golden-Head! Came a Wondrous One Unto each, and said: 'Look on me, my son! Am I not above All things else you love?' Then that love began Which is more than life ? More than love of man, Love of maid or wife; Love of queen or king, Aught or anything. Little Golden-Head, Is it well to tell How they wrought and bled, How they fought and fell In their glowing prime, Once upon a time? Nay, but it is writ That such things must be; Oh the shame of it, Oh the tragedy! Oh the days of rue, Oh the glory, too! Little Golden-Head, By the skies above, By our honoured dead, You shall know that love ? Know, and hold the time When 'twas born sublime!