ON VIMY RIDGE
On Vimy Ridge the Flag renewed
Her youth: the thunder of the guns
Recalled the crimson plenitude
Shed by her ancient sons.
Once more her white and scarlet bands
Were new-baptized with battle sweat:
She felt the clutch of desperate hands,
The push of bayonet.
Across that bloody snarl of wire
Her colors blossomed clean as flame:
The Bride of Glory, in desire
To meet her groom she came.
The lightning in her folds she kept,
The sky, the stars, the dew —
Impassioned, in her youth she swept
On Vimy, born anew!