The sun., 1916-12-25
THE YOUNG AMERICAN POET WIN
DIED FIGHTING IN FRANCE. 4
A Volume Of Verso BY Alan seesr Il the Foreign Legion will Pleas. IA
Friends Of Manhsod end Letters.

Like and unlike the case Of Rupert
Brooke is that Of Alan Seeger. Both
were young poets Of performance not
inconsiderable and Of promise greater
still. Both died on the field Of battle.
But the Englishman served mankind
through service to his country, while
the American soldier In the Foreign
Legion fought under an alien banner
because his " nation had no part
in the world war;"
There may Be in the Foreign Legion
many soldiers Of fortune. But there
are many more who follow its nag
from other motives than the appetite
for adventure. Alan Secger was not
a swashbuckler. not a hunter Of liter
airy material. lie fought for his faith.
a man Of his sort does not enlist in
tho Foreign Legion out OF curiosity
or the craving for excitement. Men
like Seegcr show Europe what kind
of men this country produce.
Readers OF The SUN will recall those
wildly written. well balanced reports
which young Seeger sent to this news
paper, straight from the trenches.
They must also recall his lode in
Memory Of tho American Volunteers
Fallen for France" which Seeger was
to have read e the statue Of Lafay-
cite and Washington in Paris last
Memorial Day. In those splendid
verses he gave tribute TO "Our in
trepid few Obscurely fallen hero be-
You'd the scas,' whose death makes Il
impossible for scofYers TO say that
from a war where freedom was at
stake America withheld and. daunted,
stood aside"
or those who Fell in the sunny
morn and flower of their years" was
Seeger himself: Of those who not I'M
mindful OF the ancient debt, Came
back the generous path OF Lafayette;
of those whom he apostrophized:
Double your glory is who persisted thus.
For you have died for Franc and vindi-
Gated us.
His own lines ft himself:
On those red fields where blow with furi-
Gus blow
Was countered. whether the gigantic fray
Rolled by the Meuss or at the Bots sabot.
Accents OF ours were in the fierce melee
And on those furthest rims OF hailowcd
ground
where the foriorn. the gallant charge
expires.
When the slain buEler long has ceased
to sound.
And on the tangled wires
The last wild rally stssssrs. crumbies.
stops,
withered beneath the s%hrapnels iron
showers
Now. heaven bo thanked. We gave a few
brave drops:
Now. heaven he thanked, a few brave
drops were ours.
There speaks not the poet who chose
10 lie n soldier. but the soldier who
had the gift Of poet speech. How the
lines ring! Find. II YOU car. affecta-
tion or other littlencss in this:
There. holding still. In frozen steadfast-
Their bayonets toward the beckoninG from
They lic-our comrades-lis among their
peers.
Clad in the glory OF fallen warriors.
Grim clusters under ,horny treIlises.
Dry. fur,hest foam upon disastrous shores,
Leaves that made last year beautiful. atm
strewn
Even IS they fell. unchanged. beneath the
changing moon;
And earth In her divine Indifference
Rolls on. and many paltry things and
mean
Pirate to be heard and eaper to be seen.
But they are silent. calm. their eloquence
Is that Incompatible attitude:
No human presences their witness are.
But summer clouds and sunset crimson
hued.
And showers and night winds n the
northern star.
Nay, even our salutations seem profane.
Opposed to their Eiysian quietude;
our salutations calling from afar.
From our ignoble plane
And undistinction OF our lesser parts:
Hail. brothers. and farewell: you are twice
blessed. brave hearts.
Secger's poems are now published
by the house OF Scribner: We have
read them with growing pleasure AS
the pages passed-and with growing