| Louis Untermeyer, ed. (1885–1977). Modern British Poetry. 1920. |
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| F. W. Harvey. 1888– |
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| 156. The Bugler |
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| GOD dreamed a man; | |
| Then, having firmly shut | |
| Life like a precious metal in his fist | |
| Withdrew, His labour done. Thus did begin | |
| Our various divinity and sin. | 5 |
| For some to ploughshares did the metal twist, | |
| And others—dreaming empires—straightway cut | |
| Crowns for their aching foreheads. Others beat | |
| Long nails and heavy hammers for the feet | |
| Of their forgotten Lord. (Who dares to boast | 10 |
| That he is guiltless?) Others coined it: most | |
| Did with it—simply nothing. (Here again | |
| Who cries his innocence?) Yet doth remain | |
| Metal unmarred, to each man more or less, | |
| Whereof to fashion perfect loveliness. | 15 |
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| For me, I do but bear within my hand | |
| (For sake of Him our Lord, now long forsaken) | |
| A simple bugle such as may awaken | |
| With one high morning note a drowsing man: | |
| That wheresoe'er within my motherland | 20 |
| That sound may come, 'twill echo far and wide | |
| Like pipes of battle calling up a clan, | |
| Trumpeting men through beauty to God's side. | |
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