A Vision of Germania

By George Sterling


She took the sword that shone at Waterloo,
    Drawn once in aid and service of the right,
    But tarnished now, that was awhile so bright,
And gazing on the shameful steel, she knew
What macuiations left so strange a hue—
    The blood of innocence that dried to blight:
    Across the Gothic vast ness of her night
Far oceanward the forfeit blade she threw.

Past Verdun and the long Biscayan dune
It gleamed like Arthur's glaive below the moon,
    And falling, broke the sea to foamy chaff.
        Outward a swift and ever-lessening wave
        Swept moaning from the dark, dishonored grave.
"Sunk without trace!" cried Satan with a laugh.

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