| Louis Untermeyer, ed. (1885–1977). Modern British Poetry. 1920. |
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| John Masefield. 1878– |
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| 100. The Choice |
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| THE Kings go by with jewelled crowns; | |
| Their horses gleam, their banners shake, their spears are many. | |
| The sack of many-peopled towns | |
| Is all their dream: | |
| The way they take | 5 |
| Leaves but a ruin in the brake, | |
| And, in the furrow that the ploughmen make, | |
| A stampless penny; a tale, a dream. | |
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| The Merchants reckon up their gold, | |
| Their letters come, their ships arrive, their freights are glories: | 10 |
| The profits of their treasures sold | |
| They tell and sum; | |
| Their foremen drive | |
| Their servants, starved to half-alive, | |
| Whose labours do but make the earth a hive | 15 |
| Of stinking glories; a tale, a dream. | |
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| The Priests are singing in their stalls, | |
| Their singing lifts, their incense burns, their praying clamours; | |
| Yet God is as the sparrow falls, | |
| The ivy drifts; | 20 |
| The votive urns | |
| Are all left void when Fortune turns, | |
| The god is but a marble for the kerns | |
| To break with hammers; a tale, a dream. | |
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| O Beauty, let me know again | 25 |
| The green earth cold, the April rain, the quiet waters figuring sky, | |
| The one star risen. | |
| So shall I pass into the feast | |
| Not touched by King, Merchant, or Priest; | |
| Know the red spirit of the beast, | 30 |
| Be the green grain; | |
| Escape from prison. | |
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