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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=408743" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Skaal</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">While they struggle on exhausted,<br>While they plough through bog and flood,<br>While they drag their sick and wounded<br>Where the tracks are drenched with blood;<br>While the Fates seemed joined to crush her<br>And her bravest hearts lie low,<br>I might sing one song for Russia,<br>Even though she be our foe. <br>Still be generous to foemen,<br>And have charity for all—<br>Right or wrong, fill up the wine cup;<br>‘Skaal!’ unto all brave men—‘Skaal!’ </div><div style="margin:10px 0">While they suffer, cold and hungry,<br>All the heart-break of defeat,<br>And the twice heroic rearguard<br>Grimly holds the grim retreat;<br>While they fight the last alive on<br>Fields where countless corpses are,<br>We might drop one tear for Ivan,<br>Dead for Russia and the Czar! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sullen grief of boorish brother,<br>Sister’s scalding tears that flow,<br>Choking grief of grey-haired mother,<br>Father’s stony face bent low:<br>Hopeless stare of wife or daughter,<br>And the sweetheart dumb and white,<br>And the far-off fields of slaughter<br>Where their Ivan lies to-night. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Even England feared disaster,<br>With all Europe in despair,<br>In the days when Europe’s master<br>Baited Bruin in his lair.<br>Greater nations made submission,<br>And a tyrant’s yoke they earned;<br>But The Man with curbed ambition<br>Staggered back while Moscow burned,— </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Burned to save the world from ruin<br>That dark winter long ago;<br>Ah! the gaunt and hunted Bruin<br>Hugged the tyrant in the snow!<br>We can cry the crimes of Russia,<br>Who know naught of Russia’s work—<br>We who died to conquer freemen,<br>We who fought to save the Turk. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ah! we well may cant and cackle,<br>In the streets and in the clubs,<br>While the Russia that we know not<br>Licks her wounds and feeds her cubs.<br>But the Fates for ever beckon—<br>Every nation has its debt,<br>And her foes may have to reckon,<br>Reckon with ‘der Russland’ yet. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Through long ages slept the Dragon,<br>We have roused the ugly beast—<br>Russia still may stand the vanguard<br>Of the West against the East.<br>And though Ivan sees no farther<br>Than to-night through lurid gloom<br>Every hour he holds Port Arthur<br>May postpone the White Man’s doom. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Right or wrong—whate’er in future<br>May this blundering world befall,<br>Human kindness will survive it—<br>Brothers! ‘Skaal!’ to brave men, ‘Skaal!’</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Henry+Lawson">Henry Lawson</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=408743" data-title="Skaal de Henry Lawson" data-description="While they struggle on exhausted,
While they plough through bog and flood,
While they drag their sick and wounded
Where the tracks are drenched with blood;
While the Fates seemed joined to crush her
And her bravest hearts lie low,
I might sing one..."></div>
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