MERCY FOR ARMENIA

Stand back, ye messengers of mercy! Stand Far off, for I will save my troubled folk In my own way. So the false Sultan spoke; And Europe, hearkening to his base command, Stood still to see him heal his wounded land. Through blinding snows of winter and through smoke Of burning towns, she saw him deal the stroke Of cruel mercy that his hate had planned. Unto the prisoners and the sick he gave New tortures, horrible, without a name; Unto the thirsty, blood to drink; a sword Unto the hungry; with a robe of shame He clad the naked, making life abhorred; He saved by slaughter, and denied a grave.