A Hymn of Empire and Other Poems

by Frederick George Scott


 

A VOICE FROM CANADA

(To an English Pro-Boer)


 

HUSH, babbling Pharisee,
Scribe, hypocrite, do we
    Love, any more
    Than you do, war?

Think you that darkling skies

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And helpless orphans’ cries
    Do never keep
    Our hearts from sleep?

Have not our blinding tears,
In these late anxious years,

10
    Been wrung by pain
    For loved ones slain?

Think you those hearts are steel
Who, for the common weal,
    Thus lay down all

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    At duty’s call?

You talk, but do not share
The heavy load we bear
    Of sundered ties
    And sacrifice.

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That far-off lonely grave,
Where sleep the sons we gave,
    Looms in our sight
    By day and night.

We do not know what more

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The future has in store,
    What bitterer tears
    May come with years,

But with set teeth we stand
To guard our Empire land,

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    To dare and spend
    Unto the end.

So, critic, since for you
Our sons are fighting, too,
    Your railing cease

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    And gives us—PEACE.

Quebec, 1901.