by Robert Laurence Binyon
But from that blood, those ashes there arose
Not hoped-for terror cowering as it ran,
But divine anger flaming upon those
Defamers of the very name of man,
Abortions of their blind hyena-creed,
Who for " protection " of their battle-host
Against the unarmed of them they had made to
Whose hearts they had tortured to the utter-
Without a cause, past pardon, fired and tore
The towers of fame and beauty, while they shot
And butchered the defenceless in the door.
But History shall hang them high, to rot
Unburied, in the face of times unborn,
Mankind's abomination and last scorn.
Last updated January 14, 2019