G. ROUNTREE HARVEY
2/A.M., Royal Flying Corps
The Maid of France
JOAN heard a Voice above the whispering trees:
"Arise, scatter mine enemies!"
She took a banner, but no sword—
Veterans hung on her lightest word;
And, ah, the splendour of the fight,
Proud victory where right was might! . . .
Alas! that ruling frailty could
So mar and betray such glorihood. . . .
Prisoned, fettered to an iron ring,
Her spirit knew no prisoning!
They burned her body at a stake of shame—
As who would quench a flame with flame!
But out of the pyre men watched upsoar
Her grail-like soul, that evermore
Gleams above the lily meads—
And men still follow where she leads. . . .
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