THREE COUNSELLORS

It was the fairy of the place,

Moving within a little light,

Who touched with dim and shadowy grace

The conflict at its fever height.

It seemed to whisper‘ Quietness,’

Then quietly itself was gone:

Yet echoes of its mute caress

Were with me as the years went on.

It was the warrior within

Who called‘ Awake, prepare for fight:

Yet lose not memory in the din:

Make of thy gentleness thy might:

‘ Make of thy silence words to shake

The long-enthroned kings of earth:

Make of thy will the force to break

Their towers of wantonness and mirth.’

It was the wise all-seeing soul

Who counselled neither war nor peace:

‘ Only be thou thyself that goal

In which the wars of time shall cease.’