THREE hundred thousand men, but not enough To break this township on a winding stream; More yet must fall, and more, ere the red stuff That built a nation's manhood may redeem The Master's hopes and realize his dream. They pave the way to Verdun; on their dust The Hohenzollerns mount and, hand in hand, Gaze haggard south; for yet another thrust And higher hills must heap, ere they may stand To feed their eyes upon the promised land. One barrow, borne of women, lifts them high, Built up of many a thousand human dead. Nursed on their mothers' bosoms, now they lie— A Golgotha, all shattered, torn and sped, A mountain for these royal feet to tread. A Golgotha, upon whose carrion clay Justice of myriad men still in the womb Shall heave two crosses; crucify and flay Two memories accurs'd; then in the tomb Of world-wide execration give them room. Verdun! A clarion thy name shall ring Adown the ages and the Nations see Thy monuments of glory. Now we bring Thank-offering and bend the reverent knee, Thou star upon the crown of Liberty! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WINDSOR FOREST by ALEXANDER POPE LOVE DISSEMBLED, FR. AS YOU LIKE IT by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE THE ABSINTHE-DRINKER by ARTHUR WILLIAM SYMONS ORANGE BUDS BY MAIL FROM FLORIDA by WALT WHITMAN A SERIOUS REFLECTION ON HUMAN LIFE, SELECTION by HENRY BAKER MILLCREEK by MATTIE-LOU BLACKWOOD CAELIA: SONNETS: 2 by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) APRIL by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON AN ANSWER TO SOME ENQUIRIES CONCERNING AUTHOR'S OPINION OF A SERMON by JOHN BYROM |