FLORIAN'S SONG

By John Collings Squire

My soul, it shall not take us,

O we will escape

This world that strives to break us

And cast us to its shape;

Its chisel shall not enter,

Its fire shall not touch,

Hard from rim to centre,

We will not crack or smutch.

‘ Gainst words sweet and flowered

We have an amulet,

We will not play the coward

For any black threat;

If we but give endurance

To what is now within —

The single assurance

That it is good to win.

Slaves think it better

To be weak than strong,

Whose hate is a fetter

And their love a thong.

But we will view those others

With eyes like stone,

And if we have no brothers

We will walk alone.