To My Country

One told me he had heard it whispered: 'Lo!
The hour has come when Europe, desperate
With sudden war and terrible swift hate,
Rocks like a reed beneath the mighty blow.
Therefore shall we, in this her time of woe,
Profit and prosper, since her ships of state
Go down in darkness. Kind, thrice kind is Fate,
Leaving our land secure, our grain to grow!'

America! They blaspheme and they lie
Who say these are the voices of your sons!
In this foul night, when nations sink and die,
No thought is here save for the fallen ones
Who, underneath the ruin of old thrones,
Suffer and bleed, and tell the world good-by!

by Charles Hanson Towne

Other poems of CHARLES HANSON TOWNE (106)

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