Page:A treasury of war poetry, British and American poems of the world war, 1914-1919.djvu/122

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One barrow, born of women, lifts them high,

Built up of many a thousand human dead.

Nursed on their mother's 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! Eden Phillpotts