 | A Sonnet Chronicle |  |
17
To the Kaiser
2nd February, 1901.
Kaiser! whose name on every lip is sweet,
In this dark hour of crownlessness and woe,
When on your charger white as driven snow,
Close by our Queen beneath her funeral sheet,
You rode so sadly up the purple street,
Did not we seem heart-smitten then, to know
Our judgments harsh?—Friend ever, never Foe—
Now were you clothed in sympathy complete;
In this dark hour of crownlessness and woe,
When on your charger white as driven snow,
Close by our Queen beneath her funeral sheet,
You rode so sadly up the purple street,
Did not we seem heart-smitten then, to know
Our judgments harsh?—Friend ever, never Foe—
Now were you clothed in sympathy complete;
And all the Teuton in our British blood,
And all the British in your Teuton heart,
Commingling, seemed to make the bond like steel
That bound us in perpetual brotherhood;—
The veil was torn that kept our souls apart
And common love made wondrous common weal.
And all the British in your Teuton heart,
Commingling, seemed to make the bond like steel
That bound us in perpetual brotherhood;—
The veil was torn that kept our souls apart
And common love made wondrous common weal.
| A Sonnet Chronicle | |