John McCrae

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.