Page:Canadian poems of the great war.djvu/118

John Daniel Logan

The wooded, winding roads in Picardy

That echoed oft to lovers song

Are now rude, iron trails in Picardy

O er which brave legions bear along

To where men die for Right and Liberty,

And foemen die for Might and Wrong.

Amid the lust of life insatiate

I overheard no threat of hate,

But I saw Christ in form as Charity,

Speak peace with Death in Picardy.

TWO secret shrines there are for me: The one a wayside calvary,

Low-canopied by fir and pine. And thither oft I steal away,

Kneel penitent and pray. Christ grants forgiveness, free, divine ; And Mary Virgin, grace benign ; And John, his tender charity. O welcome wayside calvary, O calm, secluded shrine, O sweet retreat of mine,

Whose holy peace brings blissful eucrasy!

Another shrine for me there is, Recessed, inviolate, within The ruby chamber of my Love s pure heart; And only I, her devotee, I wis, May duly enter in And supplicate and worship there apart. Before her dear remembered Image now, Unworthy worshipper, I bow: Her winsome graces are my Creed; Her low, meek speech, my Litany; Her tender thoughts, my Rosary; And her Absolovo te, my strength for holier deed. O Heart of Mine, O Heart of Mine, Whose secret chamber is my constant shrine!