The "Lusitania"

By George Sterling

Above her grave the dipping sea-gulls cry
    To swift companion or to tireless mate;
    The impassive sea lies blue and desolate,
Whose vacant shires reflect the vacant sky;
And ocean-winds pass on without a sigh,
    Fugitive, aimless, uncompassionate.
    Below, for witnesses of bestial hate,
The bones and memories of our murdered lie.

For do we still remember? Now the year
    Brings back the date of their unhappy day,
        And still the butcher and his lords go free—
Go free, nor trouble to conceal the sneer
    For us whose irresponsive hearts betray
        The vast indifference of heaven and sea.

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