FROM THE GREAT WAR
113
Has your love so careless grown
By the long neglect you've shown
That you never raise your eye
To the symbol that you fly?"
"Flag, on which no stain has been,
'Tis my sin that you're unclean,"
Then I answered in my shame.
"On my head must lie the blame.
Now with patriotic hands
I release you from your strands,
And a spotless flag shall fly
Here to greet each passer-by.
Nevermore shall Flag of mine
Be a sad and sorry sign
Telling all who look above
I neglect the thing I love.
But my flag of faith shall be
Fit for every eye to see."
