Page:The roamer and other poems (1920).djvu/201

Rh III

, the feet of the Destroyer tread

The wine-press of the nations; fast the blood

Pours from the side of Europe; in full flood

On the septentrional watershed

The rivers of fair France are running red!

England, the mother-eyrie of our brood,

That on the summit of dominion stood,

Shakes in the blast: heaven battles overhead!

Lift up thy head, O Rheims, of ages heir

That treasured up in thee their glorious sum;

Upon whose brow, prophetically fair,

Flamed the great morrow of the world to come;

Haunt with thy beauty this volcanic air

Ere yet thou close, O Flower of Christendom!