The Faithful City.

Month after month of fighting—till Hope in the dust
                              lay low,1
                        
                        Inside Famine and Fever—outside the surging Foe—2
                        
                        Women in silent anguish rocking their little ones,3
                        
                        Men with their set white faces dropping beside the guns :4
                        
                        Home after home in ruins in the wake of the shattering ball,5
                        
                        Sickness that held the strongest in the deadliest grip of all—6
                        
                        Waiting with dogged patience the succour that seem’d to lag,7
                        
                        And still o’er the Faithful City floated the English Flag !8
                        Month after month of watching, till the bravest heart grew 
cold,9
                        
                        cold,9
As the chance of help waxed fainter, and the sullen Foe more 
bold :10
                        
                        bold :10
One and another missing from the daily sharing of bread,11
                        
                        And the roll of the Living short’ned by the length’ning roll of 
the Dead :12
                        
                        the Dead :12
Wrapped in an isolation that was harder by far to bear13
                        
                        Than the roar of ceaseless Cannon, or the reek of the sickly 
air—14
                        
                        air—14
Desperate and yet undaunted—as the sixth month’s Siege went 
by15
                        
                        by15
Echoing their Colonel’s message :  “ Hungry—cheerful—dry ”  !16
                        Lonely ?  never less lonely, oh Garrison staunch and true,17
                        
                        There is not a heart in England that has not watched with 
you!18
                        
                        you!18
Eager, restless, impatient, as the weeks and months went past,19
                        
                        We look’d for the conquering Column that brought you relief at 
last,20
                        
                        last,20
Till that night when we stood together waiting with straining 
breath21
                        
                        breath21
For the hurrying, fateful tidings which seem’d to us life or 
death ;22
                        
                        death ;22
And the long suspense was over, and we lifted wet eyes to see23
                        
                        High over the Loyal City the Banner of Victory !24
                        
Oh faithful and loyal City—when the tale of the War is done,25
                        
                        And wheat waves white in the furrows where bloods 
were won,26
                        
                        were won,26
When Peace with her healing fingers has bound up the wounds 
of strife,27
                        
                        of strife,27
And, cleansed by fire, the Nations shall rise into purer life—28
                        
                        We shall tell our sons your story—how facing a hostile world,29
                        
                        Starving, fighting, and dying, you kept your Flag unfurled—30
                        
                        And the length and breadth of England to-day with thanks-
giving ring,31
                        
                        giving ring,31
In praise to the Lord of Battles for the Heroes of Mafeking !32