Lorraine by Robert W. Chambers

When Yesterday shall dawn again, And the long line athwart the hill Shall quicken with the bugles thrill, Thine own shall come to thee, Lorraine! Then in each vineyard, vale, and plain, The quiet dead shall stir the earth And rise, reborn, in thy new birth— Thou holy martyr-maid, Lorraine! Is it in vain thy sweet tears stain Thy mothers breast? Her castled crest Is lifted now! God guide her quest! She seeks thine own for thee, Lorraine! So Yesterday shall live again, And the steel line along the Rhine Shall cuirass thee and all thats thine. France lives—thy France—divine Lorraine!