Page:A treasury of war poetry, British and American poems of the world war, 1914-1919.djvu/107

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Who kept thy soul clear of the ooze and slime—

The quicksands of deceit and perjury—

A living thing, unconquered still and free,

Through superhuman sacrifice sublime.

O Serbia! amid thy ruins great,

Love is immortal; there's an end to hate,

Always there will be dawn, though dark the night.

Look up, thou tragic Glory! Even now,

The thorny round that binds thy bleeding brow

Is as a crown irradiating light! Florence Earle Coates

THE HOMECOMING OF THE SHEEP