(To the Legion of Frontiersmen)
'Twas a dream that I dreamed of to-morrow,
A shadow was cast before,
And the men who were missing had gathered
To answer the call to war.
Did ye think they were dead to the Empire?
Ah, no, though their trail is dim!
On the roll of the Legion you'll find them,
The Frontiersmen of the King.
I dreamed that a land was in sore distress,
I dreamed of a great review,
And the frontiersmen from across the sea
Had gathered, a motley crew;
For the word had flown to the rolling stone
That perilled was England's name;
From the North and South, to the East and West
They listened, and then they came.
They came from the north, the Alaskan coast,
They came from the White Man's Grave,
The men of the ranch and the mounted police,
In company with the knave;
Forgetting it all at the nation's call,
Unmindful of aught beside,
They were needed there, there were none to spare,
In stemming disaster's tide.
Not a smile was seen, as the strange array
Was mustered, and still they came
From the Southern Cross and the midnight sun,
The desert and from the plain:
They came from the mountains and Grosvenor Square,
The trapper beside the knight,
The men of the jungle and Labrador,
In eagerness for the fight.
They came in detachments, they came alone,
They paid or they worked their way,
In moccasins, chaps, or in overalls,
The young with the old and grey:
Their law was the law of the
Forty-four
,
And grimly across the waves
They came, for the King was in need of them,
His men of the damn-fool trades.
They came from the mist of a future dawn,
The lands of to-morrow's sun;
The lands that in exile and weariness
Had awaited the man to come.
They came from the shade of a Moslem mosque,
The desert of long ago;
These men who had welcomed the Legion's call,
Their loyalty e'en to show.
They came from the shanty and lumber camp,
They came from a prairie shack,
The office and camp of the engineers,
The Irishman and the Mac;
They came from the land of the Golden Fleece,
And far from an Indian shore,
Obeying the word that was passed along,
The Frontiersman's call to war.
For the call had reached, God alone knew how,
And Britons beyond the seas
Caught its wailing cry, as it passed them by,
Borne on by the evening breeze;
In the fevered zone, or the Northern home,
O'er wilderness, dark and bare,
It spoke, and its note was o'er-pregnant,
With weariness, pain, and care.
Then I seemed to be in a land of strife,
With Britain against the wall,
Where the pride of an empire was falling
For ever beyond recall;
And the flag that had waved in its glory
Was drooping amid the gloom.
'Twas the end, and I fancied I heard it,
The song of Britannia's doom.
But its notes were hushed, as with, vengeance flushed,
In anger, the Legion came,
Like a surging sea, for a moment free,
Avengers of England's fame;
And the flag was saved, but the lonely graves
Recorded the price they paid,
Ere the work of the Legion was ended,
The doom of an Empire stayed.
And, then, thro' the mist of the cordite's gloom,
I saw them return again,
But many who gathered were missing now,
And others were streaked with pain:
For the desert would grieve for her children,
The plains would resound no more
With the voices of they who were sleeping
Afar on that awful shore.
They turned them again to the wilderness
Like shadows amid the night,
Away to the silence and lonely camp,
For ever from England's sight;
But they heard the call, and the ones to fall
Remembered throughout their pain,
When the King was in need of their service
The King had not called in vain.
* * * * * * *
Would ye know them, these men of the Legion?
Then seek where the trails divide;
In the gloom they are waiting the message,
Recalling them to your side.
When the squares shall be shattered and broken.
And victory's songs are stilled,
Then the dream that I dreamed of to-morrow,
The dream shall be e'en fulfilled.