Alfred Austin

(30 May 1835 – 2 June 1913 / Headingley)

My Soul Is Sunk In All-Suffusing Shame - Poem by Alfred Austin

My soul is sunk in all-suffusing shame;
Yet not for any individual sin,
But that the world's original fair fame-
My own land's most-is not what it hath been.
Shrieks of intolerable bondage smite,
Without response, its comfortable ears,
Making a craven compromise with Might,
For their own luxury, of others' tears.
Better than this the sanguinary crash
Of fratricidal strokes, and nerveful hate!

So do I hope to hear the sabres clash
And tumbrils rattle when the snows abate.
Love peace who will-I for mankind prefer,
To dungeon or disgrace, a sepulchre.

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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, April 7, 2010

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