Punch/Volume 147/Issue 3826/Britain to Belgium

by L. Bowes Lyon

BRITAIN TO BELGIUM.

Sister, for the tears that thou hast shed,
Sister, for thy dear undying dead,
For the sons thou hast not grudged to give,
Loyally, that Liberty might live;
Sister, for the little child
Dead beside a hearth defiled—
Do I dream my love alone
   Can atone?

Can I bring again the brave that fell
When thy heaven erumbled into hell?
Can I banish from before thine eyes
Haunting visions under haggard skies?
Blazing home and blackened plain,
Can I make them fair again?
Can I ever heal thy smart,
   Broken Heart?

Sister, we be women, thou and I;
Sorrow's craving who can satisfy?
None may pay thee back so dear a loss,
Only let me help to bear thy cross.
Sick and hungry in their need
Let me succour, let me feed;
Little Sister, freely take
   For their sake.

 

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