MERCY FOR ARMENIA

By Henry Van Dyke

Stand back, ye messengers of mercy! Stand

Far off, for I will save my troubled folk

In my own way. So the false Sultan spoke;

And Europe, hearkening to his base command,

Stood still to see him heal his wounded land.

Through blinding snows of winter and through smoke

Of burning towns, she saw him deal the stroke

Of cruel mercy that his hate had planned.

Unto the prisoners and the sick he gave

New tortures, horrible, without a name;

Unto the thirsty, blood to drink; a sword

Unto the hungry; with a robe of shame

He clad the naked, making life abhorred;

He saved by slaughter, and denied a grave.