As the tidal wave in spate
Batters down the great flood gate
Where the huddled children wait
Behind the doors:
As the eagle in its flight
Sweeps the plain to left and right,
Strewing carnage, wreck and blight
And homeward soars:
As the raging, wild typhoon,
’Neath a white and callous moon,
Lifts the listless low lagoon
Into the sea:
In my tyranny and power
I have swept them where they cower,
I have turned the battle-hour
To the cry of Victory!