The Burning Marl


J. Le Gay Brereton

THE Blatant Beast saw meadows, made for peace,
    Sunlit and gently asway, and held them light,
    Till each green blade grew rigid in the night
And ruddied with a glorious morn’s increase.
Thou hast suffered; nor till Freedom find release
    And set for ever on the shining height
    The eternal rolling banner of her might
Shall thy great gift of strife and suffering cease.

We, bred of one small island in the west,
    A little shrine of Freedom, far away
—We, who can bow at no strong tyrant’s hest,
    Bend low our heads in pride to thee to-day,
For all unknown, a smiling babe at rest,
    Within thy lowly manger Freedom lay.

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