 | A Sonnet Chronicle |  |
66
Voices from the Dust
Port Arthur, January 1, 1905.
When in Big Eagle's Nest, near Erlungshan,
Those gallant generals meeting with stern grace
Spake words of mutual honour face to face,
I saw the sixty thousand from Japan
Whose blood like water on the fierce hills ran,
Rise grimly from each shallow resting-place
And curse the coming of the grey-eyed race
Whose fortress-throne had worked such bitter ban.
Those gallant generals meeting with stern grace
Spake words of mutual honour face to face,
I saw the sixty thousand from Japan
Whose blood like water on the fierce hills ran,
Rise grimly from each shallow resting-place
And curse the coming of the grey-eyed race
Whose fortress-throne had worked such bitter ban.
“The snows are white on Fusiyama's cone,
And soon the almond tree shall break to bloom,
The streets of home will shine with lamps to-night,
We cannot see them—we are robbed of sight—
And exiled here upon these hills of doom
We lie—dumb dust—blind carrion—bleaching bone!”
And soon the almond tree shall break to bloom,
The streets of home will shine with lamps to-night,
We cannot see them—we are robbed of sight—
And exiled here upon these hills of doom
We lie—dumb dust—blind carrion—bleaching bone!”
| A Sonnet Chronicle | |