Remember Belgium's Sacrifices

Auckland/New Zealand

1914

Single Item

Verso: Poem "The Day" by Henry Chappell.

You boasted the day, and you toasted the Day,

And now the Day has come.

Blasphemer, braggart and coward all,

Little you reck of the numbering ball,

The blasting shell of the "white arms" fall,

As they speed poor humans home.



You spied for the Day, you lied for the Day,

And woke for the Day's red spleen.

Monster, who asked God's aid Divine,

Then strewed His seas with the ghastly mine;

Not all the waters to the Rhine

Can wash thy foul hands clean.



You dreamed for the Day, you schemed for the Day,

Watch how Day will go.

Slayer of age and youth and prime

(defenseless slain for never a crime)

Thou art steeped in blood as a hog in slime,

False friend and cowardly toe.



You have sown for the Day, you have grown for the Day

Your is the harvest red.

Can you hear the groans and the awful cries?

Can you see the heap of slain the lies,

And the sightless turned to the flame-split skies

The glassy eyes of the dead?



You have wronged for the Day, you have longed for the Day

That lit the awful flame.

'Tis nothing to you that hill and plain

Yield sheaves of dead men amid the grain;

The widows mourn for their loved ones slain.

And mothers curse thy name



But after the Day there's a price to pay

For the sleepers under the sod,

And He you have mocked for many a day -

Listen, and hear what he has to say:

"Vengeance is Mine; I will Repay"

What can you say to God?

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14 Nov 2022 23:49