Colin F. Jones


Hate not at all, for hate is hate
That steals the food and breaks the plate,
And clones us as our hateful foe,
That our quest is lost before we go.
We rise to war to guard our way,
Or to enhance its worth in chaotic fray,
That has no purpose fought with hate,
For victory dwells where love is great.
We must retain where ere we go
Those things so hated by the foe;
Our dignity and tolerant thought,
The splendid manor of our resort,
The marvellous freedom of our boast,
That for our enemies hate us most.