p. 3GREATER BRITAIN

p. 3

Our hearts were not set on fighting, We did not pant for the fray, And whatever wrongs need righting, We would not have met that way. But the way that has opened before us Leads on thro’ a blood-red field; And we swear by the great God o’er us, We will die, but we will not yield.

The battle is not of our making, And war was never our plan; Yet, all that is sweet forsaking, We march to it, man by man. It is either to smite, or be smitten, There’s no other choice to-day; And we live, as befits the Briton, Or we die, as the Briton may.

p. 4We were not fashioned for cages, Or to feed from a keeper’s hand; Our strength which has grown thro’ ages Is the strength of a slave-free land. We cannot kneel down to a master, To our God alone can we pray; And we stand in this world disaster, To fight, like a lion at bay.

p. 4

p. 5BELGIUM

p. 5

Ruined? destroyed? Ah, no; though blood in rivers ran Down all her ancient streets; though treasures manifold Love-wrought, Time-mellowed, and beyond the price of gold Are lost, yet Belgium’s star shines still in God’s vast plan.

Rarely have Kings been great, since kingdoms first began; Rarely have great kings been great men, when all was told. But, by the lighted torch in mailèd hands, behold, Immortal Belgium’s immortal king, and Man.

p. 6KNITTING

p. 6

At the concert and the play Everywhere you see them sitting, Knitting, knitting. Women who the other day Thought of nothing but their frocks Or their jewels or their locks, Women who have lived for pleasure, Who have known no work but leisure, Now are knitting, knitting, knitting For the soldiers over there.

On the trains and on the ships With a diligence befitting, They are knitting. Some with smiles upon their lips, Some with manners debonair, Some with earnest look and air. But each heart in its own fashion, Weaves in pity and compassion In their knitting, knitting, knitting For the soldiers over there.

p. 7Hurried women to and fro From 

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