St. George Poem by A. P. Herbert

St. George



The dragon to his cave retires,
And all the world awaits the kill:
But we can feel the angry fires,
And hear the captives crying still.

By bench and bomb, machine and mine,
In all the fleets that feed the fray,
On all the roads across the Rhine,
Ride in our hearts, Saint George, to-day.
April 23, 1944

Tuesday, January 28, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: april
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A. P. Herbert

A. P. Herbert

Ashtead, Surrey
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