Page:Poems (1915) G K Chesterton.djvu/95



RE they clinging to their crosses,

F. E. Smith,

Where the Breton boat-fleet tosses,

Are they, Smith?

Do they, fasting, trembling, bleeding,

Wait the news from this our city?

Groaning "That's the Second Reading!"

Hissing "There is still Committee!"

If the voice of Cecil falters,

If McKenna's point has pith,

Do they tremble for their altars?

Do they, Smith?

Russian peasants round their pope

Huddled, Smith,

Hear about it all, I hope,

Don't they, Smith?

In the mountain hamlets clothing

Peaks beyond Caucasian pales,