The sun. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1833-1916, 1903-05-19
4 MARKHAM POEM or PEACE.
Ernest Crosby Doesn't Like what President
Roosevelt Said or the Pacific.


Two hundred people stayed in the
Metropolitan Temple last night to hear
Edwin Markham read a new poem and
to hear Ernest Crosby find fault with
President Roosevelt for what he said
when he got his first glimpse Of the
Pacific the other day They were all there
to help her celebrate the fourth anniversary
of the Peace Conference at The Hague.
1Why, when tho President saw the Pa
cific. said Mr.. Crosby, what did he say?
He said that 1t would be a great place for
navy. That reminds me Of surgeon who
how she would look after being dissected.'
Charles Sprague Smith said that the
proper thing to do on the shore Of the Pa.
cf1o or the Atlantic is not to look seward
but landward over the continent where
may, be realized the glorious ideal q the i,
ham 8 poem:
PEACE OVER AFRICA.
o bugles, ripple and shine
Ripple and rapture down the waverine line.
FOR the last Of the desperate days.
Shake out the lyrical notes
From your cavcrnous silvern throats
Burst into Joy mad carols once again
To herald the homlng men.
bugles. tell 1t to the opening sky.
And 60 the roads Of men Win JOYOUS cry ,.,d
Peace on the Wreathed and the wreatheSS mead
Peace over England, over Africa
Peace on the souls Hurled downward from the day
HuT nn down VIA Th S4,cd hr Gs.
The challenge OF the buglc. and the glum
Rejoinder OF the drum,
The neigh OF startled stations.
re ssSs VIA sen, !. e e, crushed SSsISnlum'
IJt Z ,-th
These bad their fateiul hour. but now, even now.
4 bird sings on q cannon broken bough-
sings all the afternoon.
And when the dark falls
On the shot torn walls,
Frail wings Will come to wander In the moon
Wander in long delight
Through Africa's star hled. delicious night
Sins. and Ddt be glad glad 1 England in this hour
But not as one who has no grief to bear.
No memories. no burden, no despair
glad bp, no. as one who has no sIe'
The ciarlons revcl and the Joy bells rave
But VIVA. is ali the glory and the gain
Whose those Africa Is crumpled to one grave.
4 lone grave at the mercy of the ran'
No: not the stern averment OF the guns,
Nor all our odes nor all our prisons
s al ssss sna r. Ss. SHe'r'
A heart break OF herocal farewelis
".
Let there be no more battles: fleld and food
Are sick OF bright red blood
Lay the sad swords asleep:
The have ihe ,es he dsT bs 40
Burned upward with insunerabe light
Lay them asleep: heroic rest Is earned.
And In their sleep will be a kinRller might
Than ever Powered upon the front OF night
And fold the flags: they weary OF the day
Worn by their Wild Climb IN the wind S Wild way
Quiet the dauntless flags,
Grown strangely old upon the smoking crags-
Look. where they startle and lrap
Look. where they hollow and heap'
Trcmuous, undulant banners. fared and thlnned
Living and dying momently in the wind!
And wars imperious bugles. let them rest
Bugles that cried through wh'rlwind their behest-
Wild bugles that held council in the sky.
They are aweary of the curdllng cry
That tells men how to die.
And cannons worn out with their work Of he'll,
The brief abrupt persuasion OF the shell
Let the shrewd spider lock them one by one
With hlmy cables glancing In the sun:
And let the throStle. In their empty throaS,
Build his safe mes, and spill his r1ppling notes.