Kaiser and Councillor

White mouths that clamour for the unreaped wheat, Frail hands that clasp the unresponsive dead, Brave Belgian hearts, unconquered in defeat, Dispeopled, exiled King: be comforted. Though we close not the assaulted gates of sense To shrieking towns, the gurgle of great ships In drowning agonies, the fields immense Horrid with shuddering limbs and writhen lips,