Page:Poems of the Great War - National Relief Fund.djvu/15



T last we know you, War-lord. You, that flung The gauntlet down, fling down the mask you wore, Publish your heart, and let its pent hate pour, You that had God for ever on your tongue. We are old in war, and if in guile we are young, Young also is the spirit that evermore Burns in our bosom ev'n as heretofore, Nor are these thews unbraced, these nerves unstrung. We do not with God's name make wanton play; We are not on such easy terms with Heaven; But in Earth's hearing we can verily say, "Our hands are pure; for peace, for peace we     have striven"; And not by Earth shall he be soon forgiven Who lit the fire accurst that flames to-day.

WILLIAM WATSON