_The Dominant Voice, shrieking:_
Rancor unspeakable, white-hot wrath
Spring in your furrow, rise in your path!
Harvest you vengeance from Belgian dust,
Ye who have turnèd love unto lust!
_Subdominant Voices, murmuring:_
_Month of Mary, may ye breed
Vengers out of the August seed!
Nourish'd hate of father-foe--
Grow, ye War-babes, grow, grow!_