| |
| THREE hundred thousand men, but not enough | |
| To break this township on a winding stream; | |
| More yet must fall, and more, ere the red stuff | |
| That built a nation’s manhood may redeem | |
| The Master’s hopes and realize his dream. | 5 |
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| They pave the way to Verdun; on their dust | |
| The Hohenzollerns mount and, hand in hand, | |
| Gaze haggard south; for yet another thrust | |
| And higher hills must heap, ere they may stand | |
| To feed their eyes upon the promised land. | 10 |
| |
| One barrow, borne of women, lifts them high, | |
| Built up of many a thousand human dead. | |
| Nursed on their mothers’ bosoms, now they lie— | |
| A Golgotha, all shattered, torn and sped, | |
| A mountain for these royal feet to tread. | 15 |
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| A Golgotha, upon whose carrion clay | |
| Justice of myriad men still in the womb | |
| Shall heave two crosses; crucify and flay | |
| Two memories accurs’d; then in the tomb | |
| Of world-wide execration give them room. | 20 |
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| Verdun! A clarion thy name shall ring | |
| Adown the ages and the Nations see | |
| Thy monuments of glory. Now we bring | |
| Thank-offering and bend the reverent knee, | |
| Thou star upon the crown of Liberty! | 25 |
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