Page:Poems (1915) G K Chesterton.djvu/145

 Still he that scorns or struggles

Sees, frightful and afar,

All that they leave of rebels

Rot high on Temple Bar.

All that I loved and hated,

All that I shunned and knew,

Clears in broad battle lightning,

Where they, and I, and you,

Run high the barricade that breaks

The barriers of the street,

And shout to them that shrink within,

The Prisoners of the Fleet.