 | Ballads of the War |  |
56
Britain's New Year
January 1, 1900
She sees the lips of half the nations curled,
She hears the serpent hiss of whispering hate
Mutter “Behold this Britain, that is great,
Reels and from off her ancient throne is hurled.”
But still for right her banners are unfurled,
For justice are her sons confederate,
And bruised and brave she doth her hour await,
With resolute calm she fronts a wondering world.
She hears the serpent hiss of whispering hate
Mutter “Behold this Britain, that is great,
Reels and from off her ancient throne is hurled.”
But still for right her banners are unfurled,
For justice are her sons confederate,
And bruised and brave she doth her hour await,
With resolute calm she fronts a wondering world.
One hand, one heart, she greets the coming year,
Knowing that deeper far within her soul
Than greed of power or Mammon's deadly lust,
Lies hunger to fulfil her Heavenly trust,
And claiming equal good for far and near,
To bring fair Freedom to her ultimate goal.
Knowing that deeper far within her soul
Than greed of power or Mammon's deadly lust,
Lies hunger to fulfil her Heavenly trust,
And claiming equal good for far and near,
To bring fair Freedom to her ultimate goal.
| Ballads of the War | |