New-York tribune., 1918-07-07
No Matter
How Long
the Trail
YALE recently conferred upon
John Masefield an honorary
- LID. The poet took that oc-
casion- to deliver the following


casion- to deliver the following
address:
II am very grateful for the honor you
have conferred upon me and the reception
you have given my name. My only hope is
that your university. which was first to dis
cover me, may be the last to find me out
81 am writer. l should like to speak to
you, therefore, of literature. 1t is the only
thing know anything about. One takes to
literature quite early in life He looks out
upon the world and writes a little. He
thinks that he has discovered something
new about life. A few years later he reads
what he has written and is surprised to find
that he has merely looked into his own
heart. Then he writes little more. He
feels that he has grown wiser, that he can
use his materials with more power. Some
years later he takes up his work again, and
finds that he has been merely chasing few
butterflies. Then, as he thinks, he begins
to feel that, after all, these butterflies must
come from somewhere-some land outside
of this world. He determines to pursue
them until he learns whence they come.
Then suddenly comes this terrible war. He
can think more Of butterflies. He gives
up that search. He puts literature aside.
He goes out upon different road, one that
leads. through peril perhaps, but surely
from the path that he had chosen to travel.
What effect has the war had upon litera-
ture? 1t has burned in its great fame a
great deal of nonsense, and rubbish, great
many unreaites. But we will not get the
real literature of this war until it is over
until its passions have settled and the
world has become a calm place in which
writer's and poets think again.
at has been a pleasure to me, who
brought up in this country, to know that 1t
is looking with friendly eyes upon my coun-
try.
Zone day, during the Battle of the
Somme, l passed down one sector of the
British line. The boys were singing. And
they were singing song, written by Yale
man: There's long, long trail a-winding
to the land of my Dreams That is the
most popular song in the British army to-
day."
There was catch in the poets voice
as he caressingly repeated the words:
"There's long, long trail a-winding to
the land of my dreams. And no matter
how long the trail or bitter, nor how far
it winds or where, We'll stick it out by
your side" Then he continued:
fourteen months ago, stood at point
on the British line. On one side of the
road were great heaps of broken sewing
machines On the other long lines of bro
ken men. Suddenly through the dust of the
road Tommy came running and waving a
paper. 'Hurrah!' he cried, America has
declared war on the blighters!' Another SOL
dier, older and more thoughtful, standing
by, said, Thank God! Now, perhaps, we'll
have decent world again
~ was reading a bit of Scripture the
other day. 1t was story of King David I
fell upon King David was very generous,
a very courageous, a very cruel king, with
a great fondness for war Standing one
day not far from the enemy's line, he ex-
pressed a wish 1Or drlnk OF COOL water
from we'll just within those lines. Three
of his soldiers, hearing the wish sprang
up, seized their water bottles, and, dash
ing fearessly by the advance pickets, soon
returned with their bottles filled with wa
ter. There said they, drink 'What!'
said King David. If I were to drink of
that water for which you have risked YOUR
lives l would feel that I was drinking
human blood And he poured the water out
upon the sand. Those boys of yours and
ours over there now are securing peace for
us at the price of their lives. If we accept
that peace upon any other terms than
absolute guarantees against a recurrence
of this dreadful war that has broken the
world in pieces will be wantonly drink
ing human blood.
ut has been said that the English-speak-
ing people are not military but warlike
people They warlike. And they have
genius for family differences | hone.
therefore, that when you think of our past
differences you will not think them quar-
relling, but as just touch of English fam
lily life.
And when the war is over pray that
you will put out of your life our old quar-
rels. Let us work together to make this
world decent place again. that democ-
racy may come to be living thing wher-
ever English is spoken"