You have sown for the Day, you have grown for the Day;
Yours is the Harvest red.
Can you hear the groans and the awful cries?
Can you see the heap of slain that lies,
And 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;
That 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 Him 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?
Reprinted from _The London Daily Express_ (Copyright).
***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NEW YORK TIMES CURRENT HISTORY; THE
EUROPEAN WAR, VOL 2, NO. 2, MAY, 1915***
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