You dreamed for the Day, you schemed for the Day;
      Watch how the Day will go. 
    Slayer of age and youth and prime
    (Defenseless slain for never a crime)
    Thou art steeped in blood as a hog in slime,
      False friend and cowardly foe.

    You have sown for the Day, you have grown for the Day;
      Yours is the Harvest red. 
    Can you hear the groans and the awful cries? 
    Can you see the heap of slain that lies,
    And sightless turned to the flame-split skies
      The glassy eyes of the dead?

    You have wronged for the Day, you have longed for the Day
      That lit the awful flame. 
    ’Tis nothing to you that hill and plain
    Yield sheaves of dead men amid the grain;
    That widows mourn for their loved ones slain,
      And mothers curse thy name.

    But after the Day there’s a price to pay
      For the sleepers under the sod,
    And Him you have mocked for many a day—­
    Listen, and hear what He has to say: 
    "Vengeance is mine, I will repay."
      What can you say to God?

Reprinted from The London Daily Express (Copyright).