John McCrae: Anarchy

John McCrae

(1872 – 1918)

Anarchy

 

I saw a city filled with lust and shame,

Where men, like wolves, slunk through the grim half-light;

And sudden, in the midst of it, there came

One who spoke boldly for the cause of Right.

 

And speaking, fell before that brutish race

Like some poor wren that shrieking eagles tear,

While brute Dishonour, with her bloodless face

Stood by and smote his lips that moved in prayer.

 

“Speak not of God! In centuries that word

Hath not been uttered! Our own king are we.”

And God stretched forth his finger as He heard

And o’er it cast a thousand leagues of sea.

 

John McCrae poetry

kempis.nl poetry magazine

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