Page:Soldier poets, songs of the fighting men, 1916.djvu/44

Rh The charlatan ascends the rock

Where prophets stood of yore;

The shallow cynic dons the garb

That Trust and Honour wore,

And viperous scorn stands sentinel

Beside Truth's half-shut door.

Say, Spirit, what this England needs.

Is it a common foe?

Must we through tears be led to smiles,

To happiness through woe?

Shall blood of slaughtered sons buy grace?

Then, England, let it flow. 40