22.04.2012, 09:19
The Keeping Of The Door
There was no way but this. no bar they found
To hold the door against the ruffians' hate,
The empty staples mocked the king with fate,
The woman's cry with clashing steel was drowned,
Sudden a maiden sprang from those around
And shot her arm across the iron grate -
She held them, till beneath the shattering weight
The brave bone snapt: she swooned upon the ground.
Thus, Belgium, when hell's traitors rushed the door
Lusting to give the world to spoil and flame
And wreak their hate on all the true and free,
Thy brave arm held them, yet no rescue came.
-'Tis shattered, and thou liest wounded sore
That we may live. What shall we do for thee?
There was no way but this. no bar they found
To hold the door against the ruffians' hate,
The empty staples mocked the king with fate,
The woman's cry with clashing steel was drowned,
Sudden a maiden sprang from those around
And shot her arm across the iron grate -
She held them, till beneath the shattering weight
The brave bone snapt: she swooned upon the ground.
Thus, Belgium, when hell's traitors rushed the door
Lusting to give the world to spoil and flame
And wreak their hate on all the true and free,
Thy brave arm held them, yet no rescue came.
-'Tis shattered, and thou liest wounded sore
That we may live. What shall we do for thee?