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The
Unnamed Lake and Other Poems
by
Frederick George Scott
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THE
EXCEEDING BITTER CRY
JANUARY,
1897.
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the lands burnt dead with sunshine, where our fathers |
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fought
and bled, |
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And
have reaped a golden harvest, comes a cry to us
for bread;
For the millions, famine-stricken, starve and
sicken in despair,
And the glazing eyes of famine see the vultures
in the air.
Shall
we shut up human pity? Shall they cry to us in
vain?
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5 |
| Shall
we sate ourselves with plenty, while they perish
in their |
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pain? |
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| Can
we kneel and say “Our Father,”—can
our spirits hope for |
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rest, |
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| While
the babe lies dead from starving on its starving
mother’s |
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breast?
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They are black,—but they are brother, and
they suffer pain as we,
And the four great winds of heaven bring their death-cries
o’er the |
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sea; |
10 |
| They
are black,— but they are brothers, and the
flag of England |
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stands |
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| Where
the dead forms, drawn together, dry and whiten on
the |
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sands.
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Lion-blooded sons of England, breathing glory as
your breath,
Up and gird you now, my brothers, for a giant strife
with death;
By the flag we guard unsullied, by the God that
reigns above, |
15 |
| Rise
and bind our mighty empire with the bands of human
love. |
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