The Great War

from Poems of the Great War, an electronic edition

From America

Oh, England, at the smoking trenches dying

For all the world,

Our hearts beat and we watch your bright flag flying

While ours is furled;

We who are neutral (yet each lip with fervor

The word abjures):

Oh, England, never name us the time-server!

Our hearts are yours:

We that so glory in your high decision,

So trust your goal;

All Europe in our blood, but yours our vision,

Our speech, our soul!