The Conflict

I sang as one Who on a tilting deck sings To keep their courage up, thought the wave hangs That shall cut off their sun. As storm-cocks sing, Flinging their natural answer in the wind's teeth, And care not if it is waste of breath Or birth-control of spring. As ocean-flyer clings To height, to the last drop of spirit driving on While yet ahead is land to be won And work for wings. Singing I was at peace, Above the clouds, outside the ring: For sorrow finds a swift release in song And pride in poise. Yet living here, As one between two massive powers I live Whom neutrality cannot save Nor occupation cheer. None such shall be left alive: The innocent wing is soon shot down, And private stars fade in the blood-red dawn Where two worlds strive. The red advance of life Contracts pride, calls out the common blood, Beats song into a single-blade, Makes a depth-charge of grief. Move then with new desires, For where we used to build and love Is no man's land, and only ghosts can live Between two fires.