DO NOT FORGET.

Ye nations bow your head and hold your breath,
And reverently kneel and ask for strength
While gallant little Belgium faces death,
That peace and plenitude be ours at length.

Could but the warriors of those ancient times
Let eyes upon they noble gallantry,
How gladly would the sweet harmonious chimes
Of long-forgotten wounds ring out for thee.

Could but the graves of princes and of kings
Be made to open and cast out their dead;
Could but the angel that good tidings brings,
Restore to all dead flesh the soul that fled.

How many a hair would spring and stand on end?
How many a bone in restlessness would turn?
How many a sigh the silent air would rend?
How many a soul would this foul play discern?

Without thy aid fair wisdom would depart,
And leave a help a world consumed in rage;
Ideals fled, subdued the cultured heart
By rude fanatics of an iron age.

But why lament what hath not come to grief,
And mourn as dead what is about to live?
The blood-stained side of this historic leaf
Will bear His signature, and “I forgive.”

Now if the long-gone past can't cheer the deed,
The unseen future shall be all thine own,
And if this earth can't draft they worthy need
Another world will keep thy records known.

For ever will the stain of this disgrace
Remain in scarlet spots on heathen hands.
Not all holy waters can efface
The fault of Huns who trampled His demands

J. W. ANTHONY.
Fferws Hill.