For the White Rose

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All Kings and all pretenders,

wherever you may be,

the land itself remembers

though we are far from thee.


You Counts and Knights and Barons

who served your God and King,

fear not the modern charons

who scorn their honor, sing


Of modern age’s wonders

joys our science brought,

care not for bloody blunders

and evil that they wrought


All through the world’s vast waters

the Monarchs sent their men

who ended Heathen slaughters

made salvation within ken


Of savage tribes and races.

To our South-west the King of Spain

sent Friars from their places

who worked and died in pain.


His Majesty of France indeed

the rivers took in fief,

Blackrobe, trapper, with great speed

converted brave and Chief.


Even Britain’s Sovereign cold

displayed his Royal worth,

dispatched minions sure and bold

to found our land of birth.


He who reigned in Sweden’s north

sent all that he could spare,

brave Swedes for him sallied forth

and settled Delaware.


But facing revolution’s frown,

the Monarch’s call so loud,

for brave swords to help the crown

against the maddening crowd.


The Jacobites for Royal James

and Bonnie Charles as well,

the Carlists fought with Spanish names

while Chouans tasted Hell.


The brave emerged from old Vendee

and died at Quiberon

or fought with great old Duc Condé

or fell at bold Toulon.


And Hofer up in High Tyrol

fought his Emperor’s foe

feared not to pay the awful toll

before they laid him low.


In Russia’s far off blinding snows

the Whites fought for their Tsar,

and though the Country’s lost in woe,

their glory none can mar.


Ethiopia, Laos, Iran

all had their Paladins

Vietnam, Afghanistan,

remind us of our sins.


I beg the King who reigns above

that to me may be shown

how to fight with savage love

for altar, and for throne.

By Charles A. Coulombe

(This poem was taken from The White Cockade, a collection of poetry by Charles A. Coulombe available from Tumblar House Publishing.)