 | Ballads of the War |  |
41
Resolute
December 16th
Not with wild barrack song and heedless breath,
Not with light-hearted boast of man and power
To tread the burgher under—in this hour
Of solemn pause, disastrous pain and death,
Does Britain once again her sword unsheath;
Rather with thought of that transcendent dower
Of strength that in adversity will flower,
She turns to claim once more the victor's wreath.
Not with light-hearted boast of man and power
To tread the burgher under—in this hour
Of solemn pause, disastrous pain and death,
Does Britain once again her sword unsheath;
Rather with thought of that transcendent dower
Of strength that in adversity will flower,
She turns to claim once more the victor's wreath.
Dark are her cottage-homes and dark her halls,—
Fierce serpent spite is hissing round the earth!
—“Behold, the Titan totters on his throne!”
But resolute love and loyalty have birth,
And out of Heaven an angel trumpet calls,—
“Not yet for God the allotted task is done!”
Fierce serpent spite is hissing round the earth!
—“Behold, the Titan totters on his throne!”
But resolute love and loyalty have birth,
And out of Heaven an angel trumpet calls,—
“Not yet for God the allotted task is done!”
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