University of Virginia Library



WHY WE DO NOT WIN THE WAR.

[_]

The three pictures sought to be depicted in this poem are the expression of the strong feeling raised in me by what I have recently heard and seen.

The first is a general picture of a condition of affairs known to all of us—the picture of men willingly sacrificing life, or suffering mutilation, for pure and selfless love of country. The second was inspired by a very recent occurrence at a London Hospital, where the visiting of the wounded has lost its early popularity as a Sunday duty. The third picture describes the disgust with which I, having occasion of late to visit a fashionable hotel in the South of England, witnessed the extravagant living of well-dressed, well-to-do people, amidst the poverty around, and at a time when poor people are being urged to economise.

“Thy Mercy on Thy People, Lord.”
Rudyard Kipling.
“There He could do no mighty works because of their unbelief.” —
The New Testament.
“The British Army is an army of lions led by asses.”
A French proverb, adapted from a saying of Napoleon I.

I. The Trenches.

Is it, oh, is it, that our countrymen
Born of the people, loyally and well,
Have given their bodies in their country's cause,
Have suffered wounds, disablement, and hurts
Worse far than death itself? It is! It is!

II. The Hospital.

Is it, oh, is it, that one autumn Sunday,
Lately, in London's central heart there stood


A Home of Healing with wide-opened doors?
Two days before it had received a load
Of maimed and helpless ones: part of the fruit,
The ghastly fruit—of one week's work in Flanders.
Yet, on that autumn Sunday, came there not
One single visitor to soothe or cheer,
Despite the parrot cry of “Brotherhood”
Uttered in churches—can it be sincere?
Churches, alas! where Caste still reigns, although
Christ died upon the Cross to thrust out Caste.
Can this be true? Yea, it is even so.

III. The Hotel.

Is it, oh, is it, that one autumn Sunday,
In one fair hostel, all embowered in trees,
Foul gluttony there was of men and women,
For there, they lived to eat, not ate to live?
Alas! Alas! Yea, it is even so.
Oct. 29, 1915.