To Belgium

Champion of human honour, let us lave Your feet and bind your wounds on bended knee. Though coward hands have nailed you to the tree And shed your innocent blood and dug your grave, Rejoice and live! Your oriflamme shall wave-- While man has power to perish and be free-- A golden flame of holiest Liberty, Proud as the dawn and as the sunset brave. Belgium, where dwelleth reverence for right Enthroned above all ideals; where your fate And your supernal patience and your might Most sacred grow in human estimate, You shine a star above this stormy night Little no more, but infinitely great.