English poem
Ii
by Archibald Allan Bowman (1883–1936)
One moment and his reeling world has rolled Back into ages now no longer fit For human dwelling. Here exalted sit The cruel strong, and, with the cunning bold, Possess the meek’s inheritance, and hold The good man in subjection--ages knit With blood and iron, and with arson lit, Crusted with murder, wanton, fierce and cold. And England, who so mightily championeth That freedom forced from us (our guards were met, And we went, speechless--to a living death) --England--a new light breaking on me, set My brain aworking--England lives! The breath That moment spared I hold for England yet!
RASTATT, 1st May