Poems: New and Old (Newbolt)/To Belgium, 1914
To Belgium, 1914
The boast of legions, and the boastOf them that foster slaves for sons,The triumph of the huger host,The vaunt of more gigantic guns—These for an hour may fill the airWith cries of the primeval lair.
The fame of freedom and the fameOf them that dared deny the accurst,The glory of the least in name,Who steeled their souls to battle first—These are the crown of noble strife,Man's hope and his enduring life.
The doom of heroes and the doomOf them who shed the innocent bloodAre sundered still in yonder tombBeneath the all-enshrouding mud;The scourge of earth in earth shall rot,But faith shall live when fear is not.