Awake, Americans! Awake! Awake!
'Tis April Sixth! A _year_ of War and yet
The Hun lines hold: Louvain is unavenged.
Be Thou our Guide, O God of Joshua!
Thru battles yet unstaged, and Comfort when,
From War's Inferno comes the phantom file,
The endless, ghastly file of martyred dead.
Daughters of Belgium, thy vestal tears
Make _womanhood_ still more an honored name;
And Germany, when Reason reappears,
Must dearly pay for her revolting shame!
Awake, Americans! Our task is grim;
For Hell and all the Imps of Sin deride
The Code of Morals, spit upon the Cross,
Drive torturing nails into the bleeding flesh
Of all Mankind who follow Him thru paths
Made plain and gladsome by the Golden Rule;
And foist vile _kultur_ as Refinement's height.
And what of skulking Sharks, scum of the sea,
That prey on Innocents, while o'er them fly
Poised to inflict a further agony,
The Vampire Bats that violate the sky?
Behold the ravaged homes of Serbia!
Where are her people? Ask the godless Goths
Whose Car of Kultur crushed beneath its wheels
This stalwart Race! Ask, too, the Bulgar hordes,
The mountain wolves, who pounce upon and rend,
In guise of Pacifiers of the Land,
Those who escaped the onslaughts of the Huns.
Tho sapped by hunger and disease; tho crushed
By overwhelming numbers of the foe,
Thy Star, O, Serb, when battles' din be hushed,
Shall rise again, suffused with Freedom's glow!
Now in the sacred name of God our guide,
Home, Country, Honor, Love and Motherhood,
Can we indifferent be to ravishment,
Wanton destruction, murder steeped in hate--
This loathsome litter whelped by Junkerdom?
'Tis _ours_ to dare and crush this monstrous THING:
Our Allies worn and bleeding, struggle on.
Armenian tears, a flood of pent-up grief,
Flow on and on, a torrent of despair.
Rape! Murder! Pillage! Is there no relief
For Niobe, deserted, weeping there?
Nation Invincible, unsheath thy blade!
God be thy leader: Justice be thy Sword!
Nor pause until the ruthless BEAST is flayed
With sated steel--and Liberty restored!