Let Us Forget

THE SHORE once won, who counts the waves?

Each hand, each oar, each spar that saves,

Record in heart—enshrine in song;

But all the weary, witless wrong,

Let us forget.

Father forgive them! Thus prayed He,

Who drained the cup of Calvary,

The prisoner of Devil’s Isle

May happy ask—erect the while—

Let us forget.

We “witnesses” to “shew His praise”

Must shew it forth in divers ways,

By light of fame, or light of fires,—

All lower aims—all low desires,

Let us forget.

The France of Picquart, Labori

And Zola. That is the France we see;

The foolish few who basely chose

In honor’s name, dishonor—those

Let us forget.