The Prophetic Hour

In this dread hour for thee and all mankind
Britain, be Freedom’s fortress or her grave.
There is no middle way. Conquer and save
The world, no less: fail, and the chains that bind
Our folk shall fetter body, soul and mind
Of all men everywhere. Fateful and brave
Such fight! But if we fail? Hell’s flag shall wave
O’er Freedom’s self to nether dark consigned.
One thing is needful: turn to God, whose laws
Are everlasting. Whom we own in part,
Obey: His yoke is perfect liberty.
To Him in humble trust commit our cause
And we shall see Hell’s tyrant burst his heart
And the whole world start up, amazed, and free.

(July 1940)

Poems of War