 | Last Poems |  |
1
HIS MAJESTY'S SECOND LIEUTENANTS
I
This for the Cheerio Optimists,His Majesty's Second-Lieutenants;
With the milk on their mouths and the time on their wrists,
His Majesty's Second-Lieutenants:
“About as wise as the unlick'd cub”
Was written in heaven of the average Sub,
But they all belonged to the Suicide Club,
His Majesty's Second-Lieutenants.
II
The Colonel's grief and the Sergeant's curse,His Majesty's Second-Lieutenants;
The Regiments took 'em for better or worse,
His Majesty's Second-Lieutenants;
A sort of medicine for the soul—
Yet pledge 'em deep in the loving-bowl,
For they spread the honour thick on the roll,
His Majesty's Second-Lieutenants.
2
III
Lords of the enduring, triumphing line,His Majesty's Second-Lieutenants;
Nearest, forever, to the Rhine,
His Majesty's Second-Lieutenants;
Children who fathered veteran hosts
In flame-rack'd fields and blood-soak'd posts,
And so gave up their proud young ghosts—
His Majesty's Second-Lieutenants!
3
INTERCESSION
Made in Thine image, quickened of Thy breath,
Who givest us life and givest us, also, death;
By Spear and Sponge and Thorn and Bitter Tree,
O, Judge and Comforter, we call on Thee.
Who givest us life and givest us, also, death;
By Spear and Sponge and Thorn and Bitter Tree,
O, Judge and Comforter, we call on Thee.
Sick broods the sun with agony of Thy wars,
Aghast Thy moon, weary Thine ageing stars.
Behold the garden which Thou saw'st “was good”
Is but a charnel and a place of blood!
Aghast Thy moon, weary Thine ageing stars.
Behold the garden which Thou saw'st “was good”
Is but a charnel and a place of blood!
Broken the golden bowl and all unloosed
The silver girdle. Friendly doors we used
Are shut and darkened. On the aching street
The mourners go, and only mourners meet.
The silver girdle. Friendly doors we used
Are shut and darkened. On the aching street
The mourners go, and only mourners meet.
There is no man hath joy of mart or grove,
There is no woman hath not lost a love,
There is no stripling bears not in his eyes
The anguish of the fore-doomed sacrifice.
There is no woman hath not lost a love,
There is no stripling bears not in his eyes
The anguish of the fore-doomed sacrifice.
4
Our sins were scarlet, stubborn was our pride,
And yet . . . the Smitten Cheek, the Wounded Side!
Avails it not that from yon vineyards rise
The crosses of ten thousand Calvaries?
And yet . . . the Smitten Cheek, the Wounded Side!
Avails it not that from yon vineyards rise
The crosses of ten thousand Calvaries?
These were Thy faithful servants, Lord, no less,
Who lay down humbly in their loveliness,
Thine is the Kingdom that they cherished thus:
If Thou rememberest them, remember us.
Who lay down humbly in their loveliness,
Thine is the Kingdom that they cherished thus:
If Thou rememberest them, remember us.
So that Thy will be done upon this earth
Welcome be woe and travail and tears and dearth,
Grant us the strength of conquerors. We stand
Submissive in the hollow of Thy hand.
Welcome be woe and travail and tears and dearth,
Grant us the strength of conquerors. We stand
Submissive in the hollow of Thy hand.
5
THE SILENCE
Amid the turmoil
And the rush,
A golden pause,
A silver hush!
And the rush,
A golden pause,
A silver hush!
A quietness
Which uttereth
Speech down the vasty
Lines of death;
Which uttereth
Speech down the vasty
Lines of death;
Which saith to them
Who lie so still
By foreign flood
And alien hill:
Who lie so still
By foreign flood
And alien hill:
“Dear are your names
And sweet to hear,
Because this land
To you was dear:
And sweet to hear,
Because this land
To you was dear:
“This fair, fair land—
Unravished ground,
Because your love
Folded it round!
Unravished ground,
Because your love
Folded it round!
6
“And these our children
Blest and free—
Becaues of your
Gethsemane!”
Blest and free—
Becaues of your
Gethsemane!”
Oh Graciousness
That kept the trust,
Oh lovers
In the dreaming dust,
That kept the trust,
Oh lovers
In the dreaming dust,
Thus shall our love
For you be proved:
We keep and love
What you so loved.
For you be proved:
We keep and love
What you so loved.
7
“MUDDY BOOTS”
Muddy Boots! Muddy Boots!
Charing Cross for Muddy Boots;
Six days' leave they've given him—
He went out most gay and trim,—
Comes back threadbare, soiled and grim,
A picture for the clean recruits,
But very glorious,—Muddy Boots!
Charing Cross for Muddy Boots;
Six days' leave they've given him—
He went out most gay and trim,—
Comes back threadbare, soiled and grim,
A picture for the clean recruits,
But very glorious,—Muddy Boots!
Muddy Boots! Muddy Boots!
London town for Muddy Boots,
After week on week on week
Of trench and stench and rain and reek
And ghastly games at “Hide-and-seek”
And “All-fall-down!” among the brutes;
(Seen 'em close, has Muddy Boots!)
London town for Muddy Boots,
After week on week on week
Of trench and stench and rain and reek
And ghastly games at “Hide-and-seek”
And “All-fall-down!” among the brutes;
(Seen 'em close, has Muddy Boots!)
Muddy Boots! Muddy Boots!
“Feeling strange” is Muddy Boots,
And nervous of the folks he meets;
For babes salute him in the streets,
And ladies offer him their seats
On crowded tubes and L.G. routes,
Blushes up, does Muddy Boots!
“Feeling strange” is Muddy Boots,
And nervous of the folks he meets;
For babes salute him in the streets,
And ladies offer him their seats
On crowded tubes and L.G. routes,
Blushes up, does Muddy Boots!
8
Muddy Boots; Muddy Boots!
Dream's come true for Muddy Boots,
You can read it in his eyes,
HOME, the soldier's paradise!
More to be envied than the wise
And happier than the sound of flutes,
Aren't you, Mister Muddy Boots?
Dream's come true for Muddy Boots,
You can read it in his eyes,
HOME, the soldier's paradise!
More to be envied than the wise
And happier than the sound of flutes,
Aren't you, Mister Muddy Boots?
9
LET US FORGET
[_]
Written when it was proposed that the lower ratings of the Navy should refrain from wearing decorations.
God of our fathers, known of old,
God of all ships and all the seas
Under whose grace we still unfold
The Flag of Glory to the breeze—
Lord Nelson's God, be with us yet,
Let us forget—let us forget!
God of all ships and all the seas
Under whose grace we still unfold
The Flag of Glory to the breeze—
Lord Nelson's God, be with us yet,
Let us forget—let us forget!
We were poor sailormen, oh Lord,
Who went down to Thy vasty deeps
To keep the faith and pass the word
Against the foulest thing that creeps:
Lord God of goodness hear us yet,
Let us forget—let us forget!
Who went down to Thy vasty deeps
To keep the faith and pass the word
Against the foulest thing that creeps:
Lord God of goodness hear us yet,
Let us forget—let us forget!
Lo, any little child can tell,
How in the “night” we chanced our necks
Mid mines for blowing us to hell,
And steel that raked the shuddering decks—
Judge of the faithful, hearken yet,
Let us forget—let us forget!
How in the “night” we chanced our necks
Mid mines for blowing us to hell,
And steel that raked the shuddering decks—
Judge of the faithful, hearken yet,
Let us forget—let us forget!
10
We sought no honours and no balm,
On O.B.E.s we were not hot,
A bit of something for the arm
Was all we asked and all we got,
Lord of the Honest Sleeve, oh yet
Let us forget—let us forget!
On O.B.E.s we were not hot,
A bit of something for the arm
Was all we asked and all we got,
Lord of the Honest Sleeve, oh yet
Let us forget—let us forget!
For now the Captains and the Kings
Have served us to the last old tide,
They hint that “silver gongs” and things,
Merely conduce to beastly pride!
Lord God of Decency don't fret,
We must forget—we must forget!
Have served us to the last old tide,
They hint that “silver gongs” and things,
Merely conduce to beastly pride!
Lord God of Decency don't fret,
We must forget—we must forget!
The “Lion” has been sold for junk,
“Boy Cornwell's” tablet goes for scrap,
I wonder are we mad or drunk?
Oh, Mister Admiralty chap
The King's “Sure Shield” were we, and yet,
Let us forget—let us forget!
“Boy Cornwell's” tablet goes for scrap,
I wonder are we mad or drunk?
Oh, Mister Admiralty chap
The King's “Sure Shield” were we, and yet,
Let us forget—let us forget!
11
“WE WERE TOGETHER”
In Flanders' fields and London town,
In London town and Flanders' fields,
A graciousness went up and down.
In London town and Flanders' fields,
A graciousness went up and down.
On English thorpe and folded grange
And all the misty fields of France
There fell a sweetness passing strange.
And all the misty fields of France
There fell a sweetness passing strange.
And on the Shrine the Lily glows,
In loveliness for loveliness,
Beside the Poppy and the Rose.
In loveliness for loveliness,
Beside the Poppy and the Rose.
The call is blown, the “farewell” said,
The silence of the Host descends:
We have been present with our dead.
The silence of the Host descends:
We have been present with our dead.
12
NEWSPAPER ENQUIRY
The dust complains,
The worm must cry
“Can we forgive
The Deity?”
The worm must cry
“Can we forgive
The Deity?”
And yet the Grace
By which we live,
Doth not forget
Who can't forgive.
By which we live,
Doth not forget
Who can't forgive.
13
SUNSET
Sickle moon and smouldering star,
Beauty burning in the west;
Where is he that I loved best?
Beauty burning in the west;
Where is he that I loved best?
Beauty burning in the West,
Lo, an iron ache called War
Gathers him to her stark breast.
Lo, an iron ache called War
Gathers him to her stark breast.
Sickle moon and smouldering star—
All the soul hath she possess'd
Of the love that I loved best.
All the soul hath she possess'd
Of the love that I loved best.
Like a king he takes his rest,
Past all loves and dreams that are—
Sickle moon and smouldering star
Beauty burning in the West.
Past all loves and dreams that are—
Sickle moon and smouldering star
Beauty burning in the West.
14
PEACE
They hid the bare bones of the land
With banners bright and streamers gay,
They took her by the lily hand,
And set her in the public way.
With banners bright and streamers gay,
They took her by the lily hand,
And set her in the public way.
They deck'd her like a royal bride,
With chaplets and with many crowns,
They praised her on the country side,
And pledged her in the singing towns.
With chaplets and with many crowns,
They praised her on the country side,
And pledged her in the singing towns.
Yet some whose look was drawn and white,
Whimper'd from out their private pain,
“We heard her crying in the night
For them that may not come again!”
Whimper'd from out their private pain,
“We heard her crying in the night
For them that may not come again!”
Oh, foolish souls, if tears she shed,
So saddened in her glistering state;
She thought not of the happy dead,
But of the traitor in the gate.
So saddened in her glistering state;
She thought not of the happy dead,
But of the traitor in the gate.
15
“CARLTON”
“Several trains of wounded from the Battle of Loos
arrived in London last night. . . . An officer
with his arm bandaged, and limping on an
umbrella, was met by a lady in evening dress.
She arrived in a private motor, and the one word,
‘Carlton’ was all that passed between him and
the chauffeur.”—Daily News.
Returning from the Battle of Loos,
According to the Daily Noos,
With Flanders on my socks and shoes,
I spake the one word “Carlton!”
We came up by the boat express,
My wife was there in evening dress;
She'd brought the car—oh, yes; oh, yes!
I said the one word, “Carlton!”
According to the Daily Noos,
With Flanders on my socks and shoes,
I spake the one word “Carlton!”
We came up by the boat express,
My wife was there in evening dress;
She'd brought the car—oh, yes; oh, yes!
I said the one word, “Carlton!”
I did not say, “Hello, my dear,
How are the chicks?” Not me—no fear:
I took the chauffeur by the ear,
And rapped out one word, “Carlton!”
I did not say, “Rejoice, rejoice,
Here's Perkins on the old Rolls-Royce—”
Without a tremor in my voice
I said the one word, “Carlton!”
How are the chicks?” Not me—no fear:
I took the chauffeur by the ear,
And rapped out one word, “Carlton!”
I did not say, “Rejoice, rejoice,
Here's Perkins on the old Rolls-Royce—”
16
I said the one word, “Carlton!”
Although my arm was in a sling
(They got me by the liver-wing)
And my foot ached like anything,
I said the one word, “Carlton!”
Though I was crumpled by the blast
And had been worried and harass'd
Upon my honour, all that passed
Was just the one word, “Carlton!”
(They got me by the liver-wing)
And my foot ached like anything,
I said the one word, “Carlton!”
Though I was crumpled by the blast
And had been worried and harass'd
Upon my honour, all that passed
Was just the one word, “Carlton!”
Oh, gentlemen, 'twixt you and me,
After the trenches—and the sea—
This is the crown of victory
To speak the one word, “Carlton!”
By the “old girl” to take your stand,
With the old brolly in your hand,
And say in tones that beat the band
The haughty one word, “Carlton!”
After the trenches—and the sea—
This is the crown of victory
To speak the one word, “Carlton!”
By the “old girl” to take your stand,
With the old brolly in your hand,
And say in tones that beat the band
The haughty one word, “Carlton!”
17
THE MAYFLOWER
[1620-1920]
Serene, august, through time she watches
Her deeps alight with dawns and stars,
The sea in every breath she catches,
And all her front a blaze of scars.
Her deeps alight with dawns and stars,
The sea in every breath she catches,
And all her front a blaze of scars.
Crowned with the passion and desire
That builds and reigns and builds again,
She makes her women out of fire
And on the waters casts her men.
That builds and reigns and builds again,
She makes her women out of fire
And on the waters casts her men.
An hundred strong, but quick with power
Unto the “Western wilds” they came,
And landing from the worn “Mayflower”
Called them New England in her name.
Unto the “Western wilds” they came,
And landing from the worn “Mayflower”
Called them New England in her name.
And when the East ran red with slaughters
And Europe shook to felon guns,
The Pilgrim Mothers' pilgrim daughters
Sent us the Pilgrim Fathers' sons.
And Europe shook to felon guns,
The Pilgrim Mothers' pilgrim daughters
Sent us the Pilgrim Fathers' sons.
18
Shall it be said we ever truckled
To them that babble of “old scores”?
Upon her bosom ye were suckled,
And the blood in her heart is yours.
To them that babble of “old scores”?
Upon her bosom ye were suckled,
And the blood in her heart is yours.
19
THE CORONATION OF HIS MAJESTY GEORGE V
I hear the English bugles
Shout on the happy breeze,
To take a thousand peoples
A thousand messages,
While the great dawns are waking
Across the English seas.
Shout on the happy breeze,
To take a thousand peoples
A thousand messages,
While the great dawns are waking
Across the English seas.
O bugles of old England
Which through the world do go—
You are the bravest bugles
That man will ever blow.
You have the fairest music
That men will ever know.
Which through the world do go—
You are the bravest bugles
That man will ever blow.
You have the fairest music
That men will ever know.
We crown a King in London
Of all the sea-kings bred:
The fearful words are spoken,
The precious balm is shed;
The burden and the glory
Are laid upon his head.
Of all the sea-kings bred:
The fearful words are spoken,
The precious balm is shed;
The burden and the glory
Are laid upon his head.
20
And he is crowned in Delhi,
And where the Orange flows,
And in the Southern Islands,
And mid the Northern snows,
With one who sits beside him
White as the Yorkshire rose.
And where the Orange flows,
And in the Southern Islands,
And mid the Northern snows,
With one who sits beside him
White as the Yorkshire rose.
O bugles say your proudest
With the sweet morning sound—
Unto the English peoples
An English King is crowned;
And may the strength which sleeps not
For ever, gird him round.
With the sweet morning sound—
Unto the English peoples
An English King is crowned;
And may the strength which sleeps not
For ever, gird him round.
21
THE KING'S FIRST GRANDSON
At Chesterfield House, at Chesterfield House,
The Queen stayed for luncheon and sent for her Spouse,
Andbeforethey came out—between you and me—
We knew very well what the business might be.
The Queen stayed for luncheon and sent for her Spouse,
Andbeforethey came out—between you and me—
We knew very well what the business might be.
At Chesterfield House, at Chesterfield House,
The doctor crept in as still as a mouse,
And when he came out we learnt to our joy
That he'd left with the Princess a fine little boy.
The doctor crept in as still as a mouse,
And when he came out we learnt to our joy
That he'd left with the Princess a fine little boy.
A fine little boy, a real Yorkshire lad,
The pride of his mother and heir to his dad;
He's got a white cot and a coral and bells,
And the public will know him as Gerald Lascelles.
The pride of his mother and heir to his dad;
He's got a white cot and a coral and bells,
And the public will know him as Gerald Lascelles.
Let the “Flea and the Fly and the Flitch” now rejoice,
The youth weighs eight pounds and possesses a voice—
Fill me feyther's old mug with a drop of XX,
And here's to the grandson of George the Fifth, Rex!
The youth weighs eight pounds and possesses a voice—
Fill me feyther's old mug with a drop of XX,
And here's to the grandson of George the Fifth, Rex!
22
THE HEATHER AND THE ROSE
The Duke of York proposed three times.—
Morning Paper.
He asked the lady in the dance,
She wouldna' wed for a' that;
He whispered to her at the stance,
She shook her head for a' that:
For a' that and a' that,
The King's braw son and a' that,
Earl's dochters are not lightly won—
Strathmore, Kinghorne and a' that.
She wouldna' wed for a' that;
He whispered to her at the stance,
She shook her head for a' that:
For a' that and a' that,
The King's braw son and a' that,
Earl's dochters are not lightly won—
Strathmore, Kinghorne and a' that.
For a' that and a' that,
He sware unto his lucky star:
“I'll hae her yet, whate'er befa’,”
And rode a ride like Lochinvar:
Hech, sirs, the third time paid for a',
And she said: “Yes” and a' that
For a' that and a' that,
Ye ken the rest and a' that,
“The rank is but the guinea stamp,”
And true love's love for a' that.
He sware unto his lucky star:
“I'll hae her yet, whate'er befa’,”
And rode a ride like Lochinvar:
Hech, sirs, the third time paid for a',
And she said: “Yes” and a' that
For a' that and a' that,
Ye ken the rest and a' that,
“The rank is but the guinea stamp,”
And true love's love for a' that.
23
And reach me down my silver tassie,
The Heather with the Rose entwine:
“‘Here's tae us!’ and ‘To me and mine!’
And hansel for this Lad and Lassie!”
24
SARAH BERNHARDT
Oh triumphing Death, count up thy victories;
Lo thou hast vanquished many souls of flame,
And levelled to a ruin and a name
Queens that were fair and kings of great emprise,
And sealed with dust full many a lover's eyes,
And humbled many furious ones who came
Unto thy call as tamely as the tame
And, meekly, with the innocent and the wise.
Lo thou hast vanquished many souls of flame,
And levelled to a ruin and a name
Queens that were fair and kings of great emprise,
And sealed with dust full many a lover's eyes,
And humbled many furious ones who came
Unto thy call as tamely as the tame
And, meekly, with the innocent and the wise.
Now lies she low that had the front of heaven
And spake like singing stars. Thy marble kiss
Annuls the lips and stills the heart of her
And takes the wild white spirit in a snare:
So unto thee at last is empiry given;
Conqueror indeed art thou that conquerest this!
And spake like singing stars. Thy marble kiss
Annuls the lips and stills the heart of her
And takes the wild white spirit in a snare:
So unto thee at last is empiry given;
Conqueror indeed art thou that conquerest this!
25
AVE ATQUE VALE
Mr Lloyd George has resigned.
A great sigh of relief will go up from England as a whole—
and will be re-echoed throughout Europe.
—Morning comment.
O comfortable sight! The danger past,
The body salved of the unthinkable fate,
The foeman carrion by the battered gate,
The terrors scattered, the dull anguish cast
And Glory floating sweetly at the mast:
This who was prop and pillar of your State
Passes as one that hath outlived his date—
And easy comes the English breath at last!
The body salved of the unthinkable fate,
The foeman carrion by the battered gate,
The terrors scattered, the dull anguish cast
And Glory floating sweetly at the mast:
This who was prop and pillar of your State
Passes as one that hath outlived his date—
And easy comes the English breath at last!
Time will be served and benefits forgot;
And yet mayhap in yonder land of vines
Where sleepers sleep whose memory fadeth not,
Another sigh will stir the kingly lines
And Valiance whisper from his clayey cot:
“Did ye hear that, Bill—our old pal resigns?”
And yet mayhap in yonder land of vines
Where sleepers sleep whose memory fadeth not,
Another sigh will stir the kingly lines
And Valiance whisper from his clayey cot:
“Did ye hear that, Bill—our old pal resigns?”
26
EDITH CAVELL
May 15th, 1918
Behold, to-day, our daughter cometh home,
Borne like a dead Queen in a warrior ship,
With her hands folded on her English heart
Which they might still—but could not teach to shake.
Holy and humble, faithful, piteous,
Unto thy bosom so returneth she;
And thou art richer, England, for her dust,
Who yet was meek though proud among the proud.
27
ADMIRAL LORD FISHER
“Sleep soundly in your beds,” and sound we slept,
“Hit hard, hit everywhere,” and we hit hard;
While his steel citadels around us kept
Vigil and ward.
“Hit hard, hit everywhere,” and we hit hard;
While his steel citadels around us kept
Vigil and ward.
Behold he sleeps the sleep that men must sleep,
Hard hit as mortal men must be hard hit;
And of his passing deep shall speak to deep
And ponder it.
Hard hit as mortal men must be hard hit;
And of his passing deep shall speak to deep
And ponder it.
Forget him not; for he was soul and breath
And fist for England; and he faltered not,
But “you-be-damned” 'em all—even Admiral Death
Who “sacks the lot!”
And fist for England; and he faltered not,
But “you-be-damned” 'em all—even Admiral Death
Who “sacks the lot!”
28
FOR WARREN GAMALIEL HARDING
Gamaliel;
Of whom 'twas said,
“The glory dies
Since he is dead.”
Of whom 'twas said,
“The glory dies
Since he is dead.”
Gamaliel:
So did they call
Thee, after him
Who tutored Paul.
So did they call
Thee, after him
Who tutored Paul.
Behold the startled
Peoples grieve
Thy passing—
On Gamaliel's eve . . .
Peoples grieve
Thy passing—
On Gamaliel's eve . . .
Beloved
Of the great and free,
Oh, “man
Without an enemy”:
Of the great and free,
Oh, “man
Without an enemy”:
29
I see thy kneeling
Country spread
Lilies to grace
Thine honour'd bed;
Country spread
Lilies to grace
Thine honour'd bed;
And on thy casket
For a pall,
“Old Glory,”
Fairer than them all. . . .
For a pall,
“Old Glory,”
Fairer than them all. . . .
And in my secret
Heart I view
A fold of our
“Old Glory,” too.
Heart I view
A fold of our
“Old Glory,” too.
30
“FORGIVE THEM”
From the roadside as from the Rood
Unto a bow'd and desperate land,
Unto the stricken multitude
A-shudder at the assassin's hand—
“Forgive them!”
Unto a bow'd and desperate land,
Unto the stricken multitude
A-shudder at the assassin's hand—
“Forgive them!”
For the dumb hate, and the wild fear,
And malice raging in the night,
And the black curse too deep to hear,
And deeds too loathly for the light—
Forgive them!
And malice raging in the night,
And the black curse too deep to hear,
And deeds too loathly for the light—
Forgive them!
For widows' tears and orphans' plaints,
And good men dead beneath the sod—
And scoundreldom that quotes the Saints,
And murder in the name of God—
Forgive them!
And good men dead beneath the sod—
And scoundreldom that quotes the Saints,
And murder in the name of God—
Forgive them!
31
SIR HENRY WILSON
Sword at your side
And ribands on your breast,
You fell
And there was woe in Heaven,
And shame confest
In hell.
And ribands on your breast,
You fell
And there was woe in Heaven,
And shame confest
In hell.
You share with kings
And captains gathered hence
The crown;
While Murder shrieks at large,
And Innocence
Bows down.
And captains gathered hence
The crown;
While Murder shrieks at large,
And Innocence
Bows down.
32
THE HOME-COMING
November 11th, 1920.
With mournful pomp and honouring gun,
Now cometh England's unknown son,
Who on himself her wounds did take
And lay down humbly for her sake.
Now cometh England's unknown son,
Who on himself her wounds did take
And lay down humbly for her sake.
The England of a thousand years,
Greatness and glory without peers,
And kings and conquerors proud and dim
Stretch their receiving arms to him.
Greatness and glory without peers,
And kings and conquerors proud and dim
Stretch their receiving arms to him.
“Unknown” yet known—and trebly blest;
For as he moves to his high rest
The woman soul that made us stirs,
And every mother thinks him hers.
For as he moves to his high rest
The woman soul that made us stirs,
And every mother thinks him hers.
33
NORWICH AND AMERONGEN
The ex-Kaiser makes a point of never being
late for dinner, and says grace himself.
—Newspaper Corrëspondënt.
To-night thy victim taketh up her rest
In the safe keeping of her Country's breast
Whilst thou, O Murderer and Son of Hell,
Respondest briskly to the dinner bell,
And having on thy meat a grace invoked,
Dinest—unchoked!
34
VIMY RIDGE
April, 1917
On Vimy Ridge the war-light glows,
New triumph for victorious brows—
So shines our Lady of the Snows,
On Vimy Ridge!
New triumph for victorious brows—
So shines our Lady of the Snows,
On Vimy Ridge!
On Vimy Ridge the German thief
Beholds our glory and his grief—
The Lads who wear the Maple-Leaf,
On Vimy Ridge!
Beholds our glory and his grief—
The Lads who wear the Maple-Leaf,
On Vimy Ridge!
On Vimy Ridge the price they pay;
And, spilling riches to the clay,
Mark yet another Canada,
On Vimy Ridge!
And, spilling riches to the clay,
Mark yet another Canada,
On Vimy Ridge!
35
THE LITTLE NATION
In August nineteen-thirty-seven
I chanced across old John Goo-goo:
He had the look of one who knew
The way to heaven.
I chanced across old John Goo-goo:
He had the look of one who knew
The way to heaven.
He'd changed his name from “Bull,” he told me,
To satisfy “the reconciled.”
“When I was Bull, you know,” he smiled,
“Nothing could hold me!”
To satisfy “the reconciled.”
“When I was Bull, you know,” he smiled,
“Nothing could hold me!”
“Whereas . . but s-sh, it is verboten!—
All one may do is work and pray!”
And, oh, his cheek was ashen grey—
Grey as Falloten!
All one may do is work and pray!”
And, oh, his cheek was ashen grey—
Grey as Falloten!
In well-patched seat and battered bowler
He travestied the ancient blood;
On either side of him there stood
A Man-Controller!
He travestied the ancient blood;
On either side of him there stood
A Man-Controller!
Both these I squared(though they were firm'uns),
They slunk off to the Duck and Gun;
“Now, John,” quoth I,,, who won, who won?
We or the Germans!”
They slunk off to the Duck and Gun;
“Now, John,” quoth I,,, who won, who won?
We or the Germans!”
36
Quoth he, “Alas, with lethal engines
And furious stroke, we smashed their cup,
But Lloyd George said ‘No tearing up,
Yea and no Vengeance!’
And furious stroke, we smashed their cup,
But Lloyd George said ‘No tearing up,
Yea and no Vengeance!’
“They biffed the Old Ship in the funnel;
They slew our sons as wolves slay goats;
They sucked the blood out of our throats,
Right through the tunnel!
They slew our sons as wolves slay goats;
They sucked the blood out of our throats,
Right through the tunnel!
“Yet, at the finish—well, we're bidden
To think no thoughts of get-your-own-back.
We must be thankful Jerry's thrown back
Upon his own effluvious midden!
To think no thoughts of get-your-own-back.
We must be thankful Jerry's thrown back
Upon his own effluvious midden!
“And surely 'tis our Christian duty
Fust to forgive and pay the piper,
As we grow older we grow riper,
So here's to Deutschland, home, and beauty!
Fust to forgive and pay the piper,
As we grow older we grow riper,
So here's to Deutschland, home, and beauty!
“For while the righteous sing penillions,
And Germans splutter in the chorus,
With nought but ‘strenuous days’ before us,
We're paying off the blinkin' millions.
And Germans splutter in the chorus,
With nought but ‘strenuous days’ before us,
We're paying off the blinkin' millions.
37
“Of course it seems a very meek end,
To toil and moil sans wage or drinking,
But still we keep a Fund called Sinking,
And pay in four-pence every week-end.
To toil and moil sans wage or drinking,
But still we keep a Fund called Sinking,
And pay in four-pence every week-end.
“And we have other compensations,
Oh, yes we have—for once a year
We are allowed one pint of beer,
And screws of shag as well as rations.
Oh, yes we have—for once a year
We are allowed one pint of beer,
And screws of shag as well as rations.
“And look what I've received from Neath!”
[He had a permit in his hand
To listen to the annual band
That plays sweet hymns on Hampstead Heath.]
[He had a permit in his hand
To listen to the annual band
That plays sweet hymns on Hampstead Heath.]
“Oh friend,” I cried, “the situation
Looks bright. Yet nobly have we stood—
To do the little nations good
We are become a little nation!”
Looks bright. Yet nobly have we stood—
To do the little nations good
We are become a little nation!”
38
PEACE HATH HER VICTORIES
“A trade war will prolong and embitter
afresh hatreds which should be allowed to die.”
—Lord Bryce at Birmingham.
The shades of night were falling fast
As through the gloom of London passed
A youth who'd borrowed from Lord Bryce
A banner with this strange device—
“No Trade War, Please!”
As through the gloom of London passed
A youth who'd borrowed from Lord Bryce
A banner with this strange device—
“No Trade War, Please!”
His brow was glad: his eye beneath
Flashed like a tin-sword from its sheath;
And like a four-three trumpet rung
The accents of his foolish tongue—
“No Trade War, Please!”
Flashed like a tin-sword from its sheath;
And like a four-three trumpet rung
The accents of his foolish tongue—
“No Trade War, Please!”
In happy homes he saw the light
Of German stoves gleam warm and bright,
And to the Sixpenny Bazaar
He drove his German motor car—
“No Trade War, Please!”
Of German stoves gleam warm and bright,
And to the Sixpenny Bazaar
He drove his German motor car—
“No Trade War, Please!”
39
“O stay!” the maiden said, “and rest
Thy addled head upon this breast!”
“I only rest my head,” quoth he,
“On blouses made in Germany—
No Trade War, Please!”
Thy addled head upon this breast!”
“I only rest my head,” quoth he,
“On blouses made in Germany—
No Trade War, Please!”
“Beware the Prussian's ‘English Branch,’
Beware the dumper's avalanche!”
This was the patriot's last good night.
The youth replied, “You're wrong—I'm right!’
“No Trade War, Please!”
Beware the dumper's avalanche!”
This was the patriot's last good night.
The youth replied, “You're wrong—I'm right!’
“No Trade War, Please!”
At break of day as factoryward
He plodded to find all gates barred
And nothing doing anywhere,
A voice cried through the startled air,
“No Trade War, Please!”
He plodded to find all gates barred
And nothing doing anywhere,
A voice cried through the startled air,
“No Trade War, Please!”
And later, on the Underground,
With empty pockets he was found,
Still grasping in his hand of ice
The banner of the gay Lord Bryce—
“No Trade War, Please!”
With empty pockets he was found,
Still grasping in his hand of ice
The banner of the gay Lord Bryce—
“No Trade War, Please!”
40
There on the platform cold and grey,
Bankrupt but beautiful he lay;
They wrapped him in a nice print shroud
From Dusseldorf, and sobbed aloud
“No Trade War, Please!”
Bankrupt but beautiful he lay;
They wrapped him in a nice print shroud
From Dusseldorf, and sobbed aloud
“No Trade War, Please!”
And then they wired to Berlin,
“This is too much—you've done him in!”—
A voice fell like a falling star
“Peace hath her victories—just like war!—
“No Trade War, Please!”
“This is too much—you've done him in!”—
A voice fell like a falling star
“Peace hath her victories—just like war!—
“No Trade War, Please!”
41
TAILS UP!
I
What do the English say, my lad?Tails up!—tails up!
With hell let loose on a world gone mad,
Tails up!—tails up!
By the oaths their fathers swore,
By the lilies of Agincourt,
By Drake and Nelson and fifty more,
Tails up!—tails up!
II
For thrust on thrust and wave on wave,Tails up!—tails up!
We are the hammer and the grave,
Tails up!—tails up!
We, who have seen the soul of things,
And bear upon our battling wings
The glory and the blaze of kings—
Tails up!—tails up!
42
III
Oh, youth that is age, and love that is strife—Tails up!—tails up!
Though life be death, and death be life,
Tails up!—tails up!
Though there be neither end nor ease,
And no more joy in breath or breeze,
And the Lord forget His promises—
Tails up!—tails up!
43
NO CHRISTMAS
“The Kaiser has given orders prohibiting
any Christmas celebrations in Germany.”
—Daily Paper.
“Oh my!—no Christmas?”
Little Fritz
Thinks Mutterchen
Has lost her wits!
Little Fritz
Thinks Mutterchen
Has lost her wits!
By the Kaiser's
Orders, child,—
No Peace on Earth
No mercy mild,
No waits, no bells,
No fiddling,
No glory for
The new-born King;
No plums, no flour,
We mustn't make
Der Kuchen—
Otherwise, the cake;
No roasting, boiling,
Baking, grilling
While the All-Highest
Does his Killing!
No Holy Night
For you or me,
No stocking full,
No sparkling tree;
No mirthful parties,
No burnt paws,
No Christmas
And no Santa Claus!
Trot off to bed,
The hour grows late,
And mind you say
Your Hymn of Hate!
Orders, child,—
No Peace on Earth
No mercy mild,
No waits, no bells,
No fiddling,
No glory for
The new-born King;
No plums, no flour,
We mustn't make
Der Kuchen—
Otherwise, the cake;
No roasting, boiling,
Baking, grilling
44
Does his Killing!
No Holy Night
For you or me,
No stocking full,
No sparkling tree;
No mirthful parties,
No burnt paws,
No Christmas
And no Santa Claus!
Trot off to bed,
The hour grows late,
And mind you say
Your Hymn of Hate!
No Christmas! Babe
Of Bethlehem!
Thou who didst love
And “suffer them!”
Thou who forgave us
From Thy Tree!
This is the final
Blasphemy
The murderer
Of a million sons,
Proceeds to rob
Thy little ones! . . .
No Christmas this year!
There—don't cry,
And take your knuckle
From your eye;
Never despair
To hope is wiser—
Perhaps, next year
There'll be no Kaiser!
Of Bethlehem!
Thou who didst love
And “suffer them!”
Thou who forgave us
From Thy Tree!
This is the final
Blasphemy
The murderer
Of a million sons,
45
Thy little ones! . . .
No Christmas this year!
There—don't cry,
And take your knuckle
From your eye;
Never despair
To hope is wiser—
Perhaps, next year
There'll be no Kaiser!
46
BLIGHTY
Of all the words, this is the word—
Blighty!
By soldier men the most preferred—
Blighty!
It lifts them clean beyond the foam
And makes them see the lights of home
(O, sweeter than the honeycomb),
Blighty!
Blighty!
By soldier men the most preferred—
Blighty!
It lifts them clean beyond the foam
And makes them see the lights of home
(O, sweeter than the honeycomb),
Blighty!
To India, I'm told, we owe
Blighty!
I'd like to bet it's English, though,
Blighty!
It bucks you on the hardest days,
It keeps your feet in virtue's ways
(The Colonel breathes it when he prays),
Blighty!
Blighty!
I'd like to bet it's English, though,
Blighty!
It bucks you on the hardest days,
It keeps your feet in virtue's ways
(The Colonel breathes it when he prays),
Blighty!
You think it when you cross the top,
Blighty!
It nerves you for the butcher's shop,
Blighty!
O Lord to get 'em hand-to-hand
And on the squeal in No-Man's-Land,
Learing your home address is “Strand,
Blighty!”
Blighty!
It nerves you for the butcher's shop,
Blighty!
47
And on the squeal in No-Man's-Land,
Learing your home address is “Strand,
Blighty!”
The chap they pip fair sings for joy,
“Blighty!”
And surgeon grins, “You're lucky, boy.
Blighty!”
The chap that gets the proper pips,
Don't sing so loud, but out it slips,
The last word on his faithful lips,
Blighty!
“Blighty!”
And surgeon grins, “You're lucky, boy.
Blighty!”
The chap that gets the proper pips,
Don't sing so loud, but out it slips,
The last word on his faithful lips,
Blighty!
The dream, the vision, the desire,
Blighty!
(Now there 's a line you can admire,
Blighty!
And you'd admire it twice as much
If you'd received the front-line touch
With living in a rabbit hutch),
Blighty!
Blighty!
(Now there 's a line you can admire,
Blighty!
And you'd admire it twice as much
If you'd received the front-line touch
With living in a rabbit hutch),
Blighty!
48
If I remain above the grass—
Blighty!
I reckon to earn a six days' pass—
Blighty!
Behold the end of all my woes—
The nipper in his Sunday clothes,
The missus blooming like a rose,
Blighty!
Blighty!
I reckon to earn a six days' pass—
Blighty!
Behold the end of all my woes—
The nipper in his Sunday clothes,
The missus blooming like a rose,
Blighty!
Them that's gone West will also reach
Blighty!
Leastways, that's what the padres teach
Blighty—
And when they're through the jasper door,
And safe upon the shining floor,
They'll whisper, marvelling, “Why, sure—
It's Blighty!”
Blighty!
Leastways, that's what the padres teach
Blighty—
And when they're through the jasper door,
And safe upon the shining floor,
They'll whisper, marvelling, “Why, sure—
It's Blighty!”
49
FROM A POINT OF VANTAGE
Bowers of bunting, bands and t' crowd,
Shouting—glad and very proud.
We've done wi' murder and blood and din—
I reckon I know'd which side would win!
Shouting—glad and very proud.
We've done wi' murder and blood and din—
I reckon I know'd which side would win!
Ay! that's Nelson—well content,
Wi' flags all up his monument,
Only one arm an' his eye in a patch—
Same as he was last Cup Tie Match!
Wi' flags all up his monument,
Only one arm an' his eye in a patch—
Same as he was last Cup Tie Match!
See them “pylons” shine in the sun,
Names of battles on every one;
And there's a angel—she that brings
Peace and healing on her wings.
Names of battles on every one;
And there's a angel—she that brings
Peace and healing on her wings.
Now they're coming! Yon's Foch! Hooray!!!
An' Haig! an' Beatty, gay as gay!
An' glittering “Allies” row on row—
I reckon t'owd Kaiser should see us now!
An' Haig! an' Beatty, gay as gay!
An' glittering “Allies” row on row—
I reckon t'owd Kaiser should see us now!
An' here's the lads our Joe was with . . .
Lord love 'em! . . they seem like kin and kith:
That's right, mother—lean on me—
I reckon we know where our lad be!
Lord love 'em! . . they seem like kin and kith:
That's right, mother—lean on me—
I reckon we know where our lad be!
50
THE LAST AIR RAID
The wine was good, the dinner not amiss
And through the window one beheld the moon,
Flattering the river like a silver tune—
Frigid and fair, and wise in her own bliss
As when she took Endymion with a kiss:
“Waiter! Twice now I've asked you for a spoon,
And bring the—crikey! that was a maroon!”
“Himmel!—und vistles!” gasps the cringing “Sviss.”
And through the window one beheld the moon,
Flattering the river like a silver tune—
Frigid and fair, and wise in her own bliss
As when she took Endymion with a kiss:
“Waiter! Twice now I've asked you for a spoon,
And bring the—crikey! that was a maroon!”
“Himmel!—und vistles!” gasps the cringing “Sviss.”
So to one's flat (beneath five concrete floors),
Composure, resignation, fortitude,
And thoughts removed from earthliness and self—
“Cough, cough,” “bark, bark,” “crump, crump”—and then a thud:
The glasses rattle, something shakes the doors,
And Nelson dithers on the mantelshelf.
Composure, resignation, fortitude,
And thoughts removed from earthliness and self—
“Cough, cough,” “bark, bark,” “crump, crump”—and then a thud:
The glasses rattle, something shakes the doors,
And Nelson dithers on the mantelshelf.
51
VISIONS
I saw the rivers run a living red,
I saw the gardens torn and trampled down,
Rape in the field and murder in the town,
And little children counting up the dead.
I saw the gardens torn and trampled down,
Rape in the field and murder in the town,
And little children counting up the dead.
I heard the Felon cry:“Ill be my good,
And Hell my province till the world shall kneel
And bare its neck for my omnipotent heel!”
I turned to look and saw him chopping wood!
And Hell my province till the world shall kneel
And bare its neck for my omnipotent heel!”
I turned to look and saw him chopping wood!
On London streets I saw the banners shine
And mile on mile of glory walk between
Glad miles of pride—a people who had been
Fed with dread dews, tasting the perfumed wine.
And mile on mile of glory walk between
Glad miles of pride—a people who had been
Fed with dread dews, tasting the perfumed wine.
And last night when the moon hung very low
And the flags drooped each on its sleepy mast
I saw a thousand thousand wraiths that passed
Through the dim aisles with solemn steps and slow.
And the flags drooped each on its sleepy mast
I saw a thousand thousand wraiths that passed
Through the dim aisles with solemn steps and slow.
52
In war-stained garments, radiant and fair,
Majestical to look upon, with eyes
That had known death and searched out paradise
They pressed as if on some high business bent:
Majestical to look upon, with eyes
That had known death and searched out paradise
They pressed as if on some high business bent:
Yea, every Mother's son of them was there,
Bands playing and colours flying ghostlywise,
And all their music seemed to faint and fail
To “Tipperary” and the “Long, Long Trail!”
Bands playing and colours flying ghostlywise,
And all their music seemed to faint and fail
To “Tipperary” and the “Long, Long Trail!”
53
TROTSKY AND THE BELLS OF DOORN
Out of her ancient snows, through travail and tears and blood,
Big with the spirit she rose and fashioned her empery;
Fought and wrought till she stood diademed—grasping in fee
Fat land and forest and flood from arctic to summer sea.
Big with the spirit she rose and fashioned her empery;
Fought and wrought till she stood diademed—grasping in fee
Fat land and forest and flood from arctic to summer sea.
Jewelled the gold of her cup; golden the wine she poured
Forth for her princes to sup; golden the grain she stored—
Merchant unto the world, withal that the world might be fed;
Keeping the wheatless in sheaves—and keeping the fearless in dread:
Ah, mighty and awesome and proud, inviolable, august
Goest thou now in thy shroud; stretchest thou now in the dust?
Forth for her princes to sup; golden the grain she stored—
Merchant unto the world, withal that the world might be fed;
Keeping the wheatless in sheaves—and keeping the fearless in dread:
Ah, mighty and awesome and proud, inviolable, august
Goest thou now in thy shroud; stretchest thou now in the dust?
54
Hark to the merry bells, the wedding bells of Doorn,
Hearken all ye that suffer, hearken all ye that mourn:
When this Death's head, this Boast, this fouler of God's air,
This shame of the Holy Ghost, this Devil's close despair;
This scarletest, for whom the hangman ever tarried;
(Yet must we wash him lamb-white because he's getting married)
Rattled the chains he had forged to fetter all mankind—
Who took the eastern field to abate the western wind?
Who was our “friend in need”? Who was our “dear ally
Bound to us with hoops of love and bound indissolubly”?
Hearken all ye that suffer, hearken all ye that mourn:
When this Death's head, this Boast, this fouler of God's air,
This shame of the Holy Ghost, this Devil's close despair;
This scarletest, for whom the hangman ever tarried;
(Yet must we wash him lamb-white because he's getting married)
Rattled the chains he had forged to fetter all mankind—
Who took the eastern field to abate the western wind?
Who was our “friend in need”? Who was our “dear ally
Bound to us with hoops of love and bound indissolubly”?
Ring out, oh bells, ring out, reach if you can afar
Into that filthy basement where the Tsar
And “those who were with him” perished at the hand
Of one who hath great honour in the land
And since his boots with innocent blood were wet
Has been promoted by the Soviet
From the inspectorship of Imperial durance
To a Chief Inspectorship of Life Assurance!
Into that filthy basement where the Tsar
And “those who were with him” perished at the hand
55
And since his boots with innocent blood were wet
Has been promoted by the Soviet
From the inspectorship of Imperial durance
To a Chief Inspectorship of Life Assurance!
Nathless let's not repine, also begone dull care,
The lucky are as pleased, perhaps pleaseder than ever they were,
Next week, good lack, we hold a celebration
By what's remaining of the Russian nation
Of the fifth anniversary or birthday
Of Russia's “Dawn of liberty” or dearthday.
Those who have not been killed will please attend,
And each of you may bring a lady friend;
Trotsky will lecture on the recent troubles
Price of admission fifteen million roubles.
He's billed to tell us that there is no God
And to “remind” us—which seems rather odd—
That though we have had five years of revolution
And “all for all” (including destitution),
There's “more to come,” and we must tread in sorrow
The bright Red Road unto that glad to-morrow
When men will be “contemptuous of pity”
And make the world into a holy city
For murderers, thieves, free lovers, atheists,
And people who are handy with their fists—
Providing they have knives to hold within 'em
And loads of bourgeoisie and leave to skin 'em. . .
So are we called by Tyranny's reveille,
And Russia crawling on her empty belly
Listens and wonders if the skies are brazen
And the heavens brass. . . .
The lucky are as pleased, perhaps pleaseder than ever they were,
Next week, good lack, we hold a celebration
By what's remaining of the Russian nation
Of the fifth anniversary or birthday
Of Russia's “Dawn of liberty” or dearthday.
Those who have not been killed will please attend,
And each of you may bring a lady friend;
Trotsky will lecture on the recent troubles
Price of admission fifteen million roubles.
He's billed to tell us that there is no God
And to “remind” us—which seems rather odd—
That though we have had five years of revolution
And “all for all” (including destitution),
There's “more to come,” and we must tread in sorrow
The bright Red Road unto that glad to-morrow
When men will be “contemptuous of pity”
56
For murderers, thieves, free lovers, atheists,
And people who are handy with their fists—
Providing they have knives to hold within 'em
And loads of bourgeoisie and leave to skin 'em. . .
So are we called by Tyranny's reveille,
And Russia crawling on her empty belly
Listens and wonders if the skies are brazen
And the heavens brass. . . .
57
SIGNS OF THE TIMES
‘Tis wonderful to read how “We”
(Winston that is) destroyed Von Spee.
(Winston that is) destroyed Von Spee.
“We” gave the Admirals “a prog,”
“We” set the dates and kept the log;
“We” set the dates and kept the log;
“We” spiked the telegram consoling
Which said that Sturdee's Fleet was “coaling”;
Which said that Sturdee's Fleet was “coaling”;
“We” felt “a shiver up our spine,”
But what of that? At half-past nine
But what of that? At half-past nine
The “sombre Oliver” blew in
And murmured, with a sort of grin;
And murmured, with a sort of grin;
“Sir, you'll be pleased to hear you've got 'em,
The German ships are at the bottem!”
The German ships are at the bottem!”
58
WHAT WILL YOU SMASH?
[_]
After witnessing the ceremonies attaching to the assembly of the new Parliament, a Labour member called out from the gallery of the House of Lords, “We will smash all this.”
The smasher who would not be rash
Should first find out what he would smash;
Lest by some treasonable trick,
He finds inside the that—a brick.
Should first find out what he would smash;
Lest by some treasonable trick,
He finds inside the that—a brick.
“All this,” for you to smash, good sir,
Is England. Have a look at her.
Behold her aspect, meek and wise,
Behold her comfortable eyes.
Is England. Have a look at her.
Behold her aspect, meek and wise,
Behold her comfortable eyes.
Behold the splendours of her Throne
Built in the seas she calls her own;
Behold her wealth of mart and street.
Behold the Empires at her feet.
Built in the seas she calls her own;
Behold her wealth of mart and street.
Behold the Empires at her feet.
Behold her sinew and her thew,
Behold her sons, blade straight, steel true;
And on the winds of glory blown
The banners of her old renown.
Behold her sons, blade straight, steel true;
59
The banners of her old renown.
The last man who would “smash all this”
Has lodging now at Doorn, I wis.
He counts his ruined hopes in shucks,
And spends his leisure keeping ducks.
Has lodging now at Doorn, I wis.
He counts his ruined hopes in shucks,
And spends his leisure keeping ducks.
Be not puffed up; Go easy, Bill,
The hand that reared you, rules you still;
And ere you risk the unfilial bash
Consider well—What will you smash?
The hand that reared you, rules you still;
And ere you risk the unfilial bash
Consider well—What will you smash?
60
NO ANSWER
Why do women dress?—High Court Judge.
When Eve went out a-walking
She wore a bunch of leaves,
And set the neighbours talking
About her lack of sleeves.
She wore a bunch of leaves,
And set the neighbours talking
About her lack of sleeves.
She mentioned it to Adam,
Who growled in his distress:
“Oh, kindly tell me, madam,
Why, why do women dress?
Who growled in his distress:
“Oh, kindly tell me, madam,
Why, why do women dress?
“This little bill marked ‘paid’ is
For leaves enough for ten,
D'ye dress to vex the ladies,
Or just to please the men?”
For leaves enough for ten,
D'ye dress to vex the ladies,
Or just to please the men?”
And though through countless ages
The knotty point involved
Has been discussed by sages,
The problem's still unsolved.
The knotty point involved
Has been discussed by sages,
The problem's still unsolved.
61
TWENTY-EIGHT SHILLINGS A WEEK
With fingers weary and worn,
'Mid frillies and ha-ha's red,
A woman stands in unwomanly rags
Wishing that she were dead,
Scrub! scrub! scrub!
A-getting rid of the dirt
And giving them all an extra rub
She sings the “Song of the Shirt!”
'Mid frillies and ha-ha's red,
A woman stands in unwomanly rags
Wishing that she were dead,
Scrub! scrub! scrub!
A-getting rid of the dirt
And giving them all an extra rub
She sings the “Song of the Shirt!”
Scrub, scrub, scrub!
While Ramsay crows aloof!
And scrub—scrub—scrub,
While Webb gets on the roof,
It's oh to be a slave,
Along with the beautiful Turk,
Where women have never a soul to save,
If this is Christian work!
While Ramsay crows aloof!
And scrub—scrub—scrub,
While Webb gets on the roof,
It's oh to be a slave,
Along with the beautiful Turk,
Where women have never a soul to save,
If this is Christian work!
Scrub! scrub! scrub!
Till the brain begins to swim;
Scrub—scrub—scrub,
Till the eyes are heavy and dim,
Smocks for the ladies fine,
Shirts for the gentlemen sleek,
And for myself and the little 'ome
Twenty-eight bob a week.
Till the brain begins to swim;
Scrub—scrub—scrub,
Till the eyes are heavy and dim,
62
Shirts for the gentlemen sleek,
And for myself and the little 'ome
Twenty-eight bob a week.
O men with Sisters dear!
O men with Mothers and Wives!
Is it immaculate linen you wear,
Or human creatures' lives?
Scrub—scrub—scrub,
Picking up money like dirt
From Ma's terumpity-umpity-ums,
And father's clean-boiled shirt!
O men with Mothers and Wives!
Is it immaculate linen you wear,
Or human creatures' lives?
Scrub—scrub—scrub,
Picking up money like dirt
From Ma's terumpity-umpity-ums,
And father's clean-boiled shirt!
63
THE PAUNCH
I dreamed a dream of thundering guns,And true blue Britons and their sons,
The sons were lean, but what of that?—
The fathers were extremely fat.
The sons—in helpings past belief
Got B.E.F.—the fathers Beef.
The sons for battle shamed the glutton
The fathers hogged along on mutton
And counting up their honoured dead
Solaced themselves with “Too much bread.”
This was their motto, peradventure,
Youth for the trench—age for the trencher.
64
ALL SING
Let others tell of deeds of blood
On grim and ghastly fields—
We'll keep our hearts up as we should
On what the business yields!
On grim and ghastly fields—
We'll keep our hearts up as we should
On what the business yields!
Let others sweep the war sick sky
The U-boat-haunted main—
We'll buy and sell and sell and buy
And buy and sell again!
The U-boat-haunted main—
We'll buy and sell and sell and buy
And buy and sell again!
Let others wear the hero's crown—
The worthy and the willing—
We'll do the hero's missus down
For sixpence in the shilling!
The worthy and the willing—
We'll do the hero's missus down
For sixpence in the shilling!
65
HIC JACET
Stranger, whoever you may be
Pause, please, and shed a tear,
The 'umble British Citizen
'Umbly reposes here.
Pause, please, and shed a tear,
The 'umble British Citizen
'Umbly reposes here.
Oh let a bit of London pride
Above his head be grown,
He fought for all men's liberty
And quite forgot his own.
Above his head be grown,
He fought for all men's liberty
And quite forgot his own.
66
SIC TRANSIT
I
“Tuck me up in my little gold bedWith all my golden gear to warm me:
For many a year I'm sure to be dead,
No matter how much you embalm me!”
That is what Tutankhamen said
As he dropped on the pillow his poor old head,
And sighed the last sigh in his palaced pile
Beside the purple river Nile.
II
For a thousand years he slept and sleptAnd never smiled and never wept.
Another score of centuries passed
And found him sleeping like the last.
III
But on Friday noon to his secret doorCame Lord Carnarvon and two or three more.
And all of them said, “Scat, scat, scat”
To Pharaoh Tutankhamen's cat.
67
IV
And soon this King will find his placeWith other “mummies” in a nice glass case,
And little children will stare at him
And say, with a certain amount of vim,
“Tu Tu,
Oh we remember you!”
V
Thus passes all human glory—And that's the end of the story.
68
REQUIEM
For him who said to Death: “Where is thy sting?”
And laughed to the grave: “Where is thy victory?”
Counting his share of the world a trivial thing.
So he might frustrate the world's enemy—
What branch of woeful cypress shall we bring,
What song of lamentation shall we sing,
With what sad music move a heavy string?
And laughed to the grave: “Where is thy victory?”
Counting his share of the world a trivial thing.
So he might frustrate the world's enemy—
What branch of woeful cypress shall we bring,
What song of lamentation shall we sing,
With what sad music move a heavy string?
Lo in his broken splendour he hath rest
Sweet as the rest of sainthood; and he sleeps
The sleep of the beloved. To his breast
Nothing may come of hurt or harm or doubt.
Upon his soldier-pillow prone he lies,
England still shining in his sightless eyes,
Even as through the terrors in which he strove,
And in his heart of dust the undying love
Even as at the hour that he was spent.
Sweet as the rest of sainthood; and he sleeps
The sleep of the beloved. To his breast
Nothing may come of hurt or harm or doubt.
Upon his soldier-pillow prone he lies,
England still shining in his sightless eyes,
Even as through the terrors in which he strove,
And in his heart of dust the undying love
Even as at the hour that he was spent.
69
From us he needs nor comfort nor content:
Yet deck the Stone and hang the banners out
And offer up the silent sacrifice:
He will be very close to us to-day
For good men's souls yearn to his valorous clay,
And women's prayers encompass him about.
Yet deck the Stone and hang the banners out
And offer up the silent sacrifice:
He will be very close to us to-day
For good men's souls yearn to his valorous clay,
And women's prayers encompass him about.
70
FROM THE WATCH TOWER
No victor shout, no sound of bell!
Yet—our hearts tell us all is well,
And beat beneath the wounds of Fate,
Measured and stately and elate.
Yet—our hearts tell us all is well,
And beat beneath the wounds of Fate,
Measured and stately and elate.
As every day a dawn upsprings
With Eden on his kindling wings,
And every night a punctual hand
Falls like a blessing on the land;
With Eden on his kindling wings,
And every night a punctual hand
Falls like a blessing on the land;
So, unto quick and unto wraith,
And answering them of little faith,
And crowning them that did endure
Are these, Thy promises, made sure.
And answering them of little faith,
And crowning them that did endure
Are these, Thy promises, made sure.
72
THE SONS OF SARAH
The Sons of Sarah seldom bother, they have inherited tricks by the peck;
For the Sons of Sarah favour their mother, who played it off on Abimelech.
And, because they are sons of an elderly lady who found favour in Abraham's eyes
When he was an hundred, the Sons of Sarah are old men's sons and extremely wise.
For the Sons of Sarah favour their mother, who played it off on Abimelech.
And, because they are sons of an elderly lady who found favour in Abraham's eyes
When he was an hundred, the Sons of Sarah are old men's sons and extremely wise.
It is their care in all the ages to collar the profits, to scheme and enmesh,
It is their care that the man who engages to pay must pay in cash or flesh;
It is their care that the courts “judge fairly,” it is their care to sue and distrain,
To swap and sell and promote, and duly to swap and sell and promote again.
It is their care that the man who engages to pay must pay in cash or flesh;
It is their care that the courts “judge fairly,” it is their care to sue and distrain,
To swap and sell and promote, and duly to swap and sell and promote again.
They say to the merchants “That is ours, hand over,” they say to the minor “Thix hundred per thent,”
They say to the widow, “My dear, bring us cover,” and they suck and suck till the blood be spent.
So they may guzzle and ramp and fatten and limp from Poland into Mayfair,
And pat their stomachs and leer and batten and pile up more shekels everywhere.
73
So they may guzzle and ramp and fatten and limp from Poland into Mayfair,
And pat their stomachs and leer and batten and pile up more shekels everywhere.
To these from birth is Honour forbidden, from these till death is Mercy afar,
They are concerned with matters hidden, beneath the ledgers their altars are;
They build no ladder from earth to heaven, they bear no witness to any creed,
In brief, they are simply simple Hebrews and keen on their simple passion—GREED.
They are concerned with matters hidden, beneath the ledgers their altars are;
They build no ladder from earth to heaven, they bear no witness to any creed,
In brief, they are simply simple Hebrews and keen on their simple passion—GREED.
Oh, the Sons of Sarah grow and are blessed; they know the “angels” are on their side,
They know that in them is the grace confessèd, and for them are the mercies multiplied;
They trade at the Feet, they quote the Word, they can tell you how truly the promise runs;
They have cast their burden upon the Lord, and the Lord just gives things to Sarah's Sons.
They know that in them is the grace confessèd, and for them are the mercies multiplied;
They trade at the Feet, they quote the Word, they can tell you how truly the promise runs;
They have cast their burden upon the Lord, and the Lord just gives things to Sarah's Sons.
74
THE WHITE FEATHER LEGION
There's a legion that's never been 'listed,
That follows no colour or crest,
But split into silly detachments
Loafs round in the bars of the West;
Our fathers have given us the blessings
They taught us and groomed us and crammed,
We all part our hair in the middle,
But we mustn't go out and be damned (Dear boys),
We mustn't get shot and be damned.
That follows no colour or crest,
But split into silly detachments
Loafs round in the bars of the West;
Our fathers have given us the blessings
They taught us and groomed us and crammed,
We all part our hair in the middle,
But we mustn't go out and be damned (Dear boys),
We mustn't get shot and be damned.
So some of us cherish the flapper,
And some of us run the cocotte,
And none of us wants to be “wounded,”
Or “missing,” or that sort of rot;
And some of us dawdle at Brighton,
And some of us shirk at Southend,
And some of us “rest” up the river,
In charge of a giddy young friend (Of course),
Thank God for the giddy young friend.
And some of us run the cocotte,
And none of us wants to be “wounded,”
Or “missing,” or that sort of rot;
And some of us dawdle at Brighton,
And some of us shirk at Southend,
And some of us “rest” up the river,
In charge of a giddy young friend (Of course),
Thank God for the giddy young friend.
75
We've painted the night clubs vermilion,
We're hot at the “Palace” and “Pav,”
We're just a bit short of the ready,
But by thunder we spend what we have;
We laugh at the world as we find it,
Its women and crooks and “bad men,”
And no one can make us downhearted,
For things'll soon straighten again (Dear boys),
They'll straighten and buck up again.
We're hot at the “Palace” and “Pav,”
We're just a bit short of the ready,
But by thunder we spend what we have;
We laugh at the world as we find it,
Its women and crooks and “bad men,”
And no one can make us downhearted,
For things'll soon straighten again (Dear boys),
They'll straighten and buck up again.
Big meals and fresh air are our portion,
The “niggers” and piers are our share,
When cruisers loom grim in the offing,
Both we and our glasses are there;
Yes, somehow and somewhere and always
We're first when the shoutings begin,
We put up a howl for Old England,
The Kaiser can hear in Berlin (Dear boys),
He hears it and quakes in Berlin.
The “niggers” and piers are our share,
When cruisers loom grim in the offing,
Both we and our glasses are there;
Yes, somehow and somewhere and always
We're first when the shoutings begin,
We put up a howl for Old England,
The Kaiser can hear in Berlin (Dear boys),
He hears it and quakes in Berlin.
We prance at the head of the Army—
That is, when it walks through the street;
We wave little flags at the station
And drink with whoever we meet;
We know that the row will soon finish
And rifles be back on the shelves,
Then won't we be proud of our country
And shake the glad hand with ourselves (Good men)
Who is there so good as ourselves!
That is, when it walks through the street;
76
And drink with whoever we meet;
We know that the row will soon finish
And rifles be back on the shelves,
Then won't we be proud of our country
And shake the glad hand with ourselves (Good men)
Who is there so good as ourselves!
Then a health (we must drink it in whispers)
To the flats on the field and the foam,
And also to us, the pacific
Young Gentlemen Slackers at home;
Yes, a health to ourselves ere we scatter
In taxis to get the last train,
Cheer oh! for the White Feather Legion,
Goes back to its females again.
Regards!
Goes back to its slippers again,
Hurrah!
The Bass and the lager again,
Here's how!
The gin and dry ginger again,
Salue!
The cigar and the night-cap again.
To the flats on the field and the foam,
And also to us, the pacific
Young Gentlemen Slackers at home;
Yes, a health to ourselves ere we scatter
In taxis to get the last train,
Cheer oh! for the White Feather Legion,
Goes back to its females again.
Regards!
Goes back to its slippers again,
Hurrah!
The Bass and the lager again,
Here's how!
The gin and dry ginger again,
Salue!
The cigar and the night-cap again.
77
ANDREW BONAR LAW
Let him sleep well, whom laughter had passed by,
And glory moved to no more than a sigh;
Who “fought the fight” with brooding, sorrowful eyes;
Whose only pomps were in his obsequies;
Who, for this England, trod grim ways to death,
Careless of all, except he kept the faith—
Who loved her with “the love that casts out fear.”
And made the proudest proud to touch his bier.
And glory moved to no more than a sigh;
Who “fought the fight” with brooding, sorrowful eyes;
Whose only pomps were in his obsequies;
Who, for this England, trod grim ways to death,
Careless of all, except he kept the faith—
Who loved her with “the love that casts out fear.”
And made the proudest proud to touch his bier.
78
[For each the immitigable thrust!]
For each the immitigable thrust!
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.
Yet Goodness and the soul of her
Have power to cheat the sepulchre;
Have power to cheat the sepulchre;
And men may die their deaths, and then
Live in the reverence of men.
Live in the reverence of men.
So livest thou! . . . Thrice happy he
Who gains this immortality!
Who gains this immortality!
79
THE UNKNOWN
Thou art the oaths they swore,
Thou art the sword they tried,
Thou art the pangs they bore,
Thou art the deaths they died!
Thou art the sword they tried,
Thou art the pangs they bore,
Thou art the deaths they died!
Thou whom the Colonel loved,
Thou whom the Sergeant cursed,
Thou whom the next man shoved—
Comest thou so enhearsed!—
Thou whom the Sergeant cursed,
Thou whom the next man shoved—
Comest thou so enhearsed!—
With Kings to walk behind
And Queens to weep for thee,
And all the “long trail” lined
With England's majesty.
And Queens to weep for thee,
And all the “long trail” lined
With England's majesty.
Hail! oh thou conqueror
And thou thrice blessèd one!
Thou triumpher over war,
Thou every mother's son!
And thou thrice blessèd one!
Thou triumpher over war,
Thou every mother's son!
80
SPEED
A Mr. Brown of Twickenham
Possessed a motor-car,
In which, accompanied by his spouse,
He drove both near and far.
Possessed a motor-car,
In which, accompanied by his spouse,
He drove both near and far.
Now Mr. Brown, through lack of means,
No chauffeur might employ,
And did his cleaning overnight
Assisted by a boy.
No chauffeur might employ,
And did his cleaning overnight
Assisted by a boy.
The boy—and thereby hangs our tale—
Was an un-Christian child,
Who hid a something wicked heart
Beneath an aspect mild;
Was an un-Christian child,
Who hid a something wicked heart
Beneath an aspect mild;
And, inasmuch as Brown one day
Reproved him with an oath,
He sware that he would be revenged
On Brown and partner both.
Reproved him with an oath,
He sware that he would be revenged
On Brown and partner both.
For this revenge he watched and watched,
With no uncertain watch—
I grieve to say his temperament
Was eminently Scotch.
With no uncertain watch—
I grieve to say his temperament
Was eminently Scotch.
81
Although the wicked oft must wait
The righteous to annoy,
They seldom have to wait in vain—
'Twas so with this bad boy.
The righteous to annoy,
They seldom have to wait in vain—
'Twas so with this bad boy.
Eftsoons he overheard Brown say
To Mrs. Brown, “Take heed,
The one big thing in motor-cars
Is speed, my duckie, speed!”
To Mrs. Brown, “Take heed,
The one big thing in motor-cars
Is speed, my duckie, speed!”
“Speed,” mused our gentle youth, “Speed, speed,
Gadzooks, but here's my chance!”
And then he turned him on his heel
With fiendish countenance.
Gadzooks, but here's my chance!”
And then he turned him on his heel
With fiendish countenance.
“I'll give 'em speed!” he said. “By George
They shall have speed enow,
They shall have speed to take 'em to—
Well, well—let's say below.”
They shall have speed enow,
They shall have speed to take 'em to—
Well, well—let's say below.”
So down the street he hied in haste
Into a chemist's store,
And purchased there of chemicals,
A shillingsworth or more.
Into a chemist's store,
And purchased there of chemicals,
A shillingsworth or more.
82
From which he did compound and mix,
With fierce and cunning skill,
A high progressive that should make
The fast go faster still;
With fierce and cunning skill,
A high progressive that should make
The fast go faster still;
The recipe I cannot give
(For which my stars I thank),
But the lad put th' accursed stuff
Into Brown's petrol tank.
(For which my stars I thank),
But the lad put th' accursed stuff
Into Brown's petrol tank.
That afternoon, at three o'clock,
The Browns went forth in style,
Brown wore his very wooliest coat,
His wife her usual smile.
The Browns went forth in style,
Brown wore his very wooliest coat,
His wife her usual smile.
The engine coughed and churned and raced,
Then leapt into its stride—
“My love,” said Mrs. Brown, “I think
The brake should be applied.”
Then leapt into its stride—
“My love,” said Mrs. Brown, “I think
The brake should be applied.”
Ah, me, and well-a-day! the brake!
The power of brakes was past;
For every turn the crank-shaft made
Was swifter than the last.
The power of brakes was past;
For every turn the crank-shaft made
Was swifter than the last.
83
In fine the thing was really off,
It shrieked and buzzed and glode,
Full fifty constables went down
Before it on the road.
It shrieked and buzzed and glode,
Full fifty constables went down
Before it on the road.
A drunken man who saw it pass
Cried, “May I take the pledge
If that there car ain't driven by
The Devil or S. F. Edge.”
Cried, “May I take the pledge
If that there car ain't driven by
The Devil or S. F. Edge.”
Two lovers seated in a seat
Shivered as it drew near,
Said one to t'other, “D'ye think
It lightened then, my dear?”
Shivered as it drew near,
Said one to t'other, “D'ye think
It lightened then, my dear?”
Unto the wheel Brown grimly stuck,
He scorned to leave the ship;
While Mrs. Brown squoze furiously
The bulb that says, “Pip, Pip!”
He scorned to leave the ship;
While Mrs. Brown squoze furiously
The bulb that says, “Pip, Pip!”
At length they clomb a workhouse wall,
And o'er the chimneys flew,
And sailed miraculously up
The vast and sky-ey blue.
And o'er the chimneys flew,
And sailed miraculously up
The vast and sky-ey blue.
84
The startled public rubbed its eyes,
And in “The News” that night,
It read, “A Motor Disappears
Into the Ewigkeit.”
And in “The News” that night,
It read, “A Motor Disappears
Into the Ewigkeit.”
And still through space they whizz and whirr,
With speed that naught may stem;
Comets complain, and little stars,
Of being bumped by them . . . .
With speed that naught may stem;
Comets complain, and little stars,
Of being bumped by them . . . .
So will they whizz, so will they whirr,
Until, when Fate is kind,
They get up speed enough to run
Into themselves behind.
Until, when Fate is kind,
They get up speed enough to run
Into themselves behind.
85
ROBERT
Upon a road in [Ha-ha],
Which was not over wide,
A certain fat policeman
Did stride and stride, and stride.
Which was not over wide,
A certain fat policeman
Did stride and stride, and stride.
He was a proper fellow,
His jowl was turkey-red,
A somewhat jaunty helmet
Reposed upon his head.
His jowl was turkey-red,
A somewhat jaunty helmet
Reposed upon his head.
A chaste, embroidered armlet,
Upon his sleeve he bore;
He had a blue, blue tunic,
Which buttoned down before.
Upon his sleeve he bore;
He had a blue, blue tunic,
Which buttoned down before.
He kept his buttons burnished
As bright as bright as bright;
The gloves upon his fisties
Were radiantly white.
As bright as bright as bright;
The gloves upon his fisties
Were radiantly white.
His boots of hard black leather—
The honest fellow's pride—
Aroused to love and worship
The cobbling country-side:
The honest fellow's pride—
Aroused to love and worship
The cobbling country-side:
86
They were so big and bulky,
So large and round of girth,
They made such obvious bulges
Upon the convex earth.
So large and round of girth,
They made such obvious bulges
Upon the convex earth.
They seem to have been fashioned
To suit a certain rhyme
About the use of footprints
Upon the sands of time.
To suit a certain rhyme
About the use of footprints
Upon the sands of time.
And sooth to say they fitted
Ridiculously well
The precious little tootsies
Or this same constable.
Ridiculously well
The precious little tootsies
Or this same constable.
But shining boots and buttons,
And coats of heavenly blue,
Though pleasant of a morning
Unto the tax-payers' view,
And coats of heavenly blue,
Though pleasant of a morning
Unto the tax-payers' view,
Are not the only housings
And meet accoutrement
Of County Council Roberts
Who are on business bent.
And meet accoutrement
Of County Council Roberts
Who are on business bent.
87
Oh, no! oh, no! oh nono!
Oh, nono, nono, no!
Your constable bears weapons
When hunting he doth go.
Oh, nono, nono, no!
Your constable bears weapons
When hunting he doth go.
Of old he carried truncheons,
And gyves for people's wrists,
A lantern and a whistle
To frighten anarchists.
And gyves for people's wrists,
A lantern and a whistle
To frighten anarchists.
But in this day of marvels,
The County Council men
Have given him new fixings,
The names of them being ten,
The County Council men
Have given him new fixings,
The names of them being ten,
So that without a handbag,
To keep them out of sight,
The constable of [Ha-ha]
Is an unhappy wight:
To keep them out of sight,
The constable of [Ha-ha]
Is an unhappy wight:
For they include a compass,
A tape-measure, a map,
A piece of india-rubber,
A box of pills, a cap;
A tape-measure, a map,
A piece of india-rubber,
A box of pills, a cap;
88
A dog-chain and a penknife,
Some gum, and—on my soul!—
A real gas-meter stop-watch
Jewelled in every hole.
Some gum, and—on my soul!—
A real gas-meter stop-watch
Jewelled in every hole.
Thus you will see, dear reader,
That Robert the sublime
Is now engaged to cope with
A special class of crime.
That Robert the sublime
Is now engaged to cope with
A special class of crime.
No longer he pursueth
Breakers of bolts and bars,
But only wicked people
Who ride on motor cars.
Breakers of bolts and bars,
But only wicked people
Who ride on motor cars.
The Robert of my story
Haunts the sweet [Ha-ha] lanes;
His tape-measure is short of ends,
His stop-watch never gains.
Haunts the sweet [Ha-ha] lanes;
His tape-measure is short of ends,
His stop-watch never gains.
But loses, loses, loses,
Throughout the livelong day;
Hence—on the mathemetics—
The motorist has to pay.
Throughout the livelong day;
Hence—on the mathemetics—
The motorist has to pay.
89
For twenty miles an hour,
Timed by our friend the slow,
Is many miles an hour,
Quicker than one should go.
Timed by our friend the slow,
Is many miles an hour,
Quicker than one should go.
Oh, licence-holders, hear me!
Beware of this fat man;
When e'er you go through [Ha-ha]
He'll have you if he can.
Beware of this fat man;
When e'er you go through [Ha-ha]
He'll have you if he can.
Before the “beaks” he'll hale you,
Though you say “Sir!” and “Zounds!”
And, on the mathematics,
They'll fine you twenty pounds.
Though you say “Sir!” and “Zounds!”
And, on the mathematics,
They'll fine you twenty pounds.
90
TRADE
Sir Hugh de Broklehurst,
That Knight so bold,
Dropped fairish moneys,
In mines of gold.
That Knight so bold,
Dropped fairish moneys,
In mines of gold.
Sir Hugh de Broklehurst,
Gave to the Jews
Small bits of paper
Called I.O.U.s.
Gave to the Jews
Small bits of paper
Called I.O.U.s.
Sir Hugh de Broklehurst,
Being down of revenue,
Cut down the famous, old
Encestral evenue.
Being down of revenue,
Cut down the famous, old
Encestral evenue.
Lady de Broklehurst
Said to her maid,
“If he goes on like this
I shall try trade.”
Said to her maid,
“If he goes on like this
I shall try trade.”
Lady de Broklehurst
Popped up to town
In a new Paris hat
And a smart gown.
Popped up to town
In a new Paris hat
And a smart gown.
91
Blessed with activities
Nothing could stop
Lady de Broklehurst
Opened a shop.
Nothing could stop
Lady de Broklehurst
Opened a shop.
Where you might buy yourself
Fruit, cake and tea,
And pay at the desk, please,
To Lady de B.
Fruit, cake and tea,
And pay at the desk, please,
To Lady de B.
Thanks to her aptitudes,
And to her smile,
Lady de Broklehurst
Soon made a pile.
And to her smile,
Lady de Broklehurst
Soon made a pile.
All the smart people
With coachmen and grooms
Come to take tea in her
Cosy back rooms. . . .
With coachmen and grooms
Come to take tea in her
Cosy back rooms. . . .
One day Sir Hugh de B.
Chancing to pass,
Saw his wife serving out
Milk in a glass.
Chancing to pass,
Saw his wife serving out
Milk in a glass.
92
Sir Hugh de Broklehurst
Staggered, and cried,
“Surely that isn't my
Late blushing bride!”
Staggered, and cried,
“Surely that isn't my
Late blushing bride!”
Into the tea-shop
Forthwith he strode,
Looked at her closely
And said he'd be blowed.
Forthwith he strode,
Looked at her closely
And said he'd be blowed.
Lady de Broklehurst
Beamed on her spouse;
“Please let me show you
All round the house.”
Beamed on her spouse;
“Please let me show you
All round the house.”
Sir Hugh was furious,
But when he saw
Her ladyship's ledger
He smiled, “Haw, haw, haw!”
But when he saw
Her ladyship's ledger
He smiled, “Haw, haw, haw!”
“Lend me five hundred,”
Quoth he, “there's a dear—
No, no—on my honour
Neither skittles—nor beer.
Quoth he, “there's a dear—
No, no—on my honour
Neither skittles—nor beer.
93
“I've done with all that, love,
Believe me. Fact is
I'm thinking of starting
A quiet little biz.”
Believe me. Fact is
I'm thinking of starting
A quiet little biz.”
With wifely admonishment,
Not to be rash,
Lady de Broklehurst
Weighed out the cash.
Not to be rash,
Lady de Broklehurst
Weighed out the cash.
Sir Hugh de Broklehurst
Blessing his stars,
Took up an agency
For certain cars.
Blessing his stars,
Took up an agency
For certain cars.
From morning till evening
He raked in the pelf,
And began very shortly
To build for himself.
He raked in the pelf,
And began very shortly
To build for himself.
The Broklehurst motors—
At all the big shows
You see them marked purchased
In glittering rows.
At all the big shows
You see them marked purchased
In glittering rows.
94
And when certain persons
Behold them, pardie,
They think of a bun-shop
And Lady de B.
Behold them, pardie,
They think of a bun-shop
And Lady de B.
And they smile in their beards:
“For her ladyship's sake
We mustn't remark that
These cars take the cake.”
“For her ladyship's sake
We mustn't remark that
These cars take the cake.”
Sir Hugh de Broklehurst,
That Knight so bold
Has now whips of money
In silver and gold.
That Knight so bold
Has now whips of money
In silver and gold.
Sir Hugh de Broklehurst
Has bought from the Jews
All his old paper
And I.O.U.s.
Has bought from the Jews
All his old paper
And I.O.U.s.
Sir Hugh de Broklehurst,
Being full of revenue,
Is planting a famous, new
Encestral evenue.
Being full of revenue,
Is planting a famous, new
Encestral evenue.
95
AT THE OLD BAILEY
To A. D.
We spoke the truth and bared their shame, and so
They bring the gag, the thumbscrews, and the knout,
And hired mouths to spit their venom out,
And marshal all their bullies in a row;
Whereat—mark well their sick chagrin—we go
To give them thump for thump and shout for shout,
And shake the bowel of their leading lout
Who would have killed our honours for a show.
They bring the gag, the thumbscrews, and the knout,
And hired mouths to spit their venom out,
And marshal all their bullies in a row;
Whereat—mark well their sick chagrin—we go
To give them thump for thump and shout for shout,
And shake the bowel of their leading lout
Who would have killed our honours for a show.
Chiefly to you this victory, by God's grace,
Most “disagreeable witness” with the thrust
That withers liars in their obscene place—
The honour in which kings have put their trust,
The name was a name at Chevy Chase,
Shine on, serene above the smirch and dust.
Most “disagreeable witness” with the thrust
That withers liars in their obscene place—
The honour in which kings have put their trust,
The name was a name at Chevy Chase,
Shine on, serene above the smirch and dust.
98
FOR JOSEPH CONRAD
Why do we go down to the sea in ships,
And fight the tempest and the hurricane,
And take delight in elemental pain,
And all the bitter brine upon our lips,
And all the winds that harry us like whips,
And voyage after voyage made in vain?
What is our hope, where is our ultimate gain,
That we unleash ourselves in such dire grips?
And fight the tempest and the hurricane,
And take delight in elemental pain,
And all the bitter brine upon our lips,
And all the winds that harry us like whips,
And voyage after voyage made in vain?
What is our hope, where is our ultimate gain,
That we unleash ourselves in such dire grips?
Was it for love of toil and trafficking
That this man perished like a tired king,
Still with his galleons? At the wheel he went
Through the last storm conning the age-old mark—
Far off he saw the islands of content,
And beauty sleeping somewhere in the dark.
That this man perished like a tired king,
Still with his galleons? At the wheel he went
Through the last storm conning the age-old mark—
Far off he saw the islands of content,
And beauty sleeping somewhere in the dark.
99
HALF A BRICK
Lord of the nether and more noisome hells,
For whom long Chris weeps in his handkerchief,
And damp Forgiveness whimpers from the brief
Of him who so defieth German shells;
Thou whose bright works the pushful newsman sells
To furnish money for “The Children's” neif
O, leprous Partner of the Impenitent Thief,
Come forth and view thy rank “impossibles.”
For whom long Chris weeps in his handkerchief,
And damp Forgiveness whimpers from the brief
Of him who so defieth German shells;
Thou whose bright works the pushful newsman sells
To furnish money for “The Children's” neif
O, leprous Partner of the Impenitent Thief,
Come forth and view thy rank “impossibles.”
Gilded and scented, each in his clean shirt,
They mop and mow and giggle and squeal and bawl,
And from thy altars eat the ancient dirt
And sup the skimmings of the obscene pits;
Drunk at thy stercoraceous feet they sprawl,
Who gavest them thy sores and not thy wits.
They mop and mow and giggle and squeal and bawl,
And from thy altars eat the ancient dirt
And sup the skimmings of the obscene pits;
Drunk at thy stercoraceous feet they sprawl,
Who gavest them thy sores and not thy wits.
100
Mr. ASQUITH WEPT
[SOME YEARS AGO]
Rare and refreshing fruit. Oh, ruddy and rare,
And odorous! Behold, the Tree of Cant
And vain Imaginings which we did plant
That it might spread bright branches on the air
And drop for each poor man a rich man's share,
And yield the lords of sentiment and rant
And every charlatan and recusant
The proud rewards such arborage should bear.
And odorous! Behold, the Tree of Cant
And vain Imaginings which we did plant
That it might spread bright branches on the air
And drop for each poor man a rich man's share,
And yield the lords of sentiment and rant
And every charlatan and recusant
The proud rewards such arborage should bear.
How it did prosper and blossom our tree of trees,
Like the old green bay-tree in the Old Script . . .
But now by frosts of Doom it hath been nipped,
And to our frightened glances it appears
Blacker than the funereal cypresses,
And we must water it with Front Bench tears.
Like the old green bay-tree in the Old Script . . .
But now by frosts of Doom it hath been nipped,
And to our frightened glances it appears
Blacker than the funereal cypresses,
And we must water it with Front Bench tears.
101
THE MAKEWEIGHT
Petrarch thou should'st be living at this hour,
Poetry hath need of thee: she is a fen
Of dissolute waters; pad and fountain pen
At every fireside, in every bower,
Have pretty well destroyed our ancient dower
Of formal verse. We are metreless, rhymeless men,
Oh, raise us up, return to us again,
And give us legislation, rubrics, power!
Poetry hath need of thee: she is a fen
Of dissolute waters; pad and fountain pen
At every fireside, in every bower,
Have pretty well destroyed our ancient dower
Of formal verse. We are metreless, rhymeless men,
Oh, raise us up, return to us again,
And give us legislation, rubrics, power!
A sonnet is a wondrous thing, God wot,
Likened by William Sharp to a pint pot;
Still, to be done with bauble and gew-gaw,
Let us revive and love thy golden law,
And for the benefit of them who whine
“The price [viz., half-a-guinea] seems a lot,”
Let us chuck in a generous fifteenth line.
Likened by William Sharp to a pint pot;
Still, to be done with bauble and gew-gaw,
Let us revive and love thy golden law,
And for the benefit of them who whine
“The price [viz., half-a-guinea] seems a lot,”
Let us chuck in a generous fifteenth line.
103
SHAKESPEARE
O royal thou, England's chief ornament,
True being of Poesy, best-beloved son
Of the High Muses, lordly statured one
Out of an hundred which are eminent;
Spirit most fair, substance most excellent,
Jester and angel, nightingale and swan,
Behold what sorry slights are laid upon
Thy Fame wherewith the centuries were content.
True being of Poesy, best-beloved son
Of the High Muses, lordly statured one
Out of an hundred which are eminent;
Spirit most fair, substance most excellent,
Jester and angel, nightingale and swan,
Behold what sorry slights are laid upon
Thy Fame wherewith the centuries were content.
Lo, Durning Lawrence hath an antic care
To oust thee from thy starry kingdoms down,
Smudge with a cypher figures away thy crown,
Caine gives the memory of thy face a jog
By the bright disposition of his hair,
Correlli is encamped in thy sweet town,
And Harris sorts thee nobly with the hog.
To oust thee from thy starry kingdoms down,
Smudge with a cypher figures away thy crown,
Caine gives the memory of thy face a jog
By the bright disposition of his hair,
Correlli is encamped in thy sweet town,
And Harris sorts thee nobly with the hog.
104
SYBIL THORNDIKE
For you they might have built a faery tower
Filled with all shapes of delicate loveliness,
Visions that Jove bestows on whom he would bless,
Dreams that were dreamed by Helen in her bower,
Or fashioned for Danae in the glowing shower,
Delight which singeth to the wilderness
And takes the golden day like a caress
Or slumbers on the midnight like a flower.
Filled with all shapes of delicate loveliness,
Visions that Jove bestows on whom he would bless,
Dreams that were dreamed by Helen in her bower,
Or fashioned for Danae in the glowing shower,
Delight which singeth to the wilderness
And takes the golden day like a caress
Or slumbers on the midnight like a flower.
Yet there shall be no softness in your feigning
And only queens of iron could reign your reigning
You who have chosen the agony and the smart,
The hurt, the travail and the unstanched heart,
And worn upon a brow with myrtle fleckt
The steely diadem of the intellect.
And only queens of iron could reign your reigning
You who have chosen the agony and the smart,
The hurt, the travail and the unstanched heart,
And worn upon a brow with myrtle fleckt
The steely diadem of the intellect.
105
“SONNET”
Upon a hill of guff the Devil sat
And round him thronged a very pretty host
Of twopenny scorners of the Holy Ghost
And pie-faced duds who edit this and that;
Each seemed to dress his hair with bacon fat
Each on each foolish ankle wore a spat;
Each an expert at holding down his post
Would vie with t'other who might swank the most
Though each was just as frightened as a cat.
And round him thronged a very pretty host
Of twopenny scorners of the Holy Ghost
And pie-faced duds who edit this and that;
Each seemed to dress his hair with bacon fat
Each on each foolish ankle wore a spat;
Each an expert at holding down his post
Would vie with t'other who might swank the most
Though each was just as frightened as a cat.
“In the first number of ‘The Flying Horse’”
[And here there was much sprinkling and some hissing]
“I find,” the Devil said, “a so-called sonnet;
It isn't meat for you and me, of course,
But paste it out, Messieurs, and ponder on it—
How many of the lines have gone amissing?”
[And here there was much sprinkling and some hissing]
“I find,” the Devil said, “a so-called sonnet;
It isn't meat for you and me, of course,
But paste it out, Messieurs, and ponder on it—
How many of the lines have gone amissing?”
106
DANCERS
The one-armed man flings rag-time to the street
Out of a battered cornet, while his pal
Vamps on a fierce harmonium; Sue and Sal
Two-step and bunny hug and part and meet
And meet and part with curtsies most discreet,
And whoop like niggers; and the tiniest gal
Leads through the outskirts of the festival
Her solemn baby brother's toddling feet.
Out of a battered cornet, while his pal
Vamps on a fierce harmonium; Sue and Sal
Two-step and bunny hug and part and meet
And meet and part with curtsies most discreet,
And whoop like niggers; and the tiniest gal
Leads through the outskirts of the festival
Her solemn baby brother's toddling feet.
Oh, golden head and eyes of trustful blue,
Too kind for sadness and too young for tears,
Here by the rag-shops of the reeking stew
Thou tread'st a measure angels late have trod
Unto a music caught from the hid spheres,
And dost thy dancing in the sight of God.
Too kind for sadness and too young for tears,
Here by the rag-shops of the reeking stew
Thou tread'st a measure angels late have trod
Unto a music caught from the hid spheres,
And dost thy dancing in the sight of God.
107
APOLLO
His cheek was wan,
His heart was wild,
He was thrall to sorrow,
And dream beguiled—
The Lord Apollo
Had touched the child.
His heart was wild,
He was thrall to sorrow,
And dream beguiled—
The Lord Apollo
Had touched the child.
The Lord Apollo,
In silver state,
Hath touched him there,
By the black garth gate,
As he watcheth Sirius
Burning late.
In silver state,
Hath touched him there,
By the black garth gate,
As he watcheth Sirius
Burning late.
On whom this Lord
Doth set his seal
Shall be deep woe
And little weal;
For he shall see
And he shall feel.
Doth set his seal
Shall be deep woe
And little weal;
For he shall see
And he shall feel.
108
He sees the soul
That Beauty bares
Unto her secret
Ministers,
And round his brow
The thorn he wears.
That Beauty bares
Unto her secret
Ministers,
And round his brow
The thorn he wears.
For common men
The rose is red
And odorous
Till she be dead—
To him she sayeth
Why she bled;
The rose is red
And odorous
Till she be dead—
To him she sayeth
Why she bled;
And why she bleeds
And mourns all night,
And with what queens
Of old delight
Her sister rangeth,
Being white.
And mourns all night,
And with what queens
Of old delight
Her sister rangeth,
Being white.
109
EAST CAN BE WEST
They stood beside the Philharmonic Hall,
A tinkly jewelled Venus from Iran
And her swart lord—of nigh three cubits span
About the midriff. She seemed full of gall
And raged it out in Pelhevi, with small
Teeth bared—and eyes . . . oh, suffering, suffering man!
He blenched beneath what you might term his tan
And reeled like one who is about to fall.
A tinkly jewelled Venus from Iran
And her swart lord—of nigh three cubits span
About the midriff. She seemed full of gall
And raged it out in Pelhevi, with small
Teeth bared—and eyes . . . oh, suffering, suffering man!
He blenched beneath what you might term his tan
And reeled like one who is about to fall.
When he had managed to dispose of her
(By cab), I questioned him, saying, “Fair Sir,
We come like water and like wind we go,
But what's the reason of this little row?”
“Hai, Excellency,” he answered, “you do tooch
Mai heart . . . That Moon!—she not forgive me, no—
Las' night I had a leetle drop too mooch!”
(By cab), I questioned him, saying, “Fair Sir,
We come like water and like wind we go,
But what's the reason of this little row?”
“Hai, Excellency,” he answered, “you do tooch
Mai heart . . . That Moon!—she not forgive me, no—
Las' night I had a leetle drop too mooch!”
110
FOR A POET
It shall suffice if one swift word
Of thine, the living faith hath stirr'd
In one sick soul when faith was blurr'd.
Of thine, the living faith hath stirr'd
In one sick soul when faith was blurr'd.
And if, upon the tilth of pain,
Thou rearest one earful of the grain
Of Power, that men may sow again
Thou rearest one earful of the grain
Of Power, that men may sow again
To keep the seed of Paradise;
Though thou be broken, sere, and thrice
Blasted by Fate, it shall suffice.
Though thou be broken, sere, and thrice
Blasted by Fate, it shall suffice.
111
NOTWITHSTANDING
These are the chains we clank,
These are the gyves we wear—
Still there are gods to thank,
Still there is sweet and fair.
These are the gyves we wear—
Still there are gods to thank,
Still there is sweet and fair.
Unto the breast the thrust,
For hands and feet the tree—
Still shall the twisted dust
Smile out its agony.
For hands and feet the tree—
Still shall the twisted dust
Smile out its agony.
Vainly we shake the bars
Of death and woe and sin—
And still the morning stars
Quire to the cherubin.
Of death and woe and sin—
And still the morning stars
Quire to the cherubin.
114
THE WAGNERITE
His hair is long. He smokes a dirty pipe.
He hath a beard, a dull eye, and false teeth,
A thin top lip to scorn the lip beneath
Which droops and bulges and is of the type
Known among little girls as “cherry-ripe.”
His cheeks and hands are tinged with yellow like death,
Or perished lilies in a funeral wreath;
His suit is loose and brown, with a green stripe.
He hath a beard, a dull eye, and false teeth,
A thin top lip to scorn the lip beneath
Which droops and bulges and is of the type
Known among little girls as “cherry-ripe.”
His cheeks and hands are tinged with yellow like death,
Or perished lilies in a funeral wreath;
His suit is loose and brown, with a green stripe.
The hujahs snarl the snarl of the mad dog,
The fiddles scream, the tom-toms rip and roar;
Says he, “Thank God, they're warming up at last!”
His tuppenny soul floats out upon the blast
Of shameless noise to where the German hog
Helped by the German ape, is foul once more.
The fiddles scream, the tom-toms rip and roar;
Says he, “Thank God, they're warming up at last!”
His tuppenny soul floats out upon the blast
Of shameless noise to where the German hog
Helped by the German ape, is foul once more.
115
THE LAST SONNET
All these bright shapes and visions of delight,
This turret of gold, this chair of amethyst
Put thou away; the cheek that Judas kiss'd,
The body of death worn in the unending fight,
One to the worm, the other to the kite.
Put thou away the sharp steel and the fist,
And let the foolish wanton as they list.
Another thief hath entered in the night.
This turret of gold, this chair of amethyst
Put thou away; the cheek that Judas kiss'd,
The body of death worn in the unending fight,
One to the worm, the other to the kite.
Put thou away the sharp steel and the fist,
And let the foolish wanton as they list.
Another thief hath entered in the night.
So are we served, triumphant and elate.
What of the darkened Kingdom then remains
That the grooms mark our passing with such state?
This is the perfume of our ice-cold veins:
We made considerable mirth of fate,
And on the stair of Hell we break our chains.
What of the darkened Kingdom then remains
That the grooms mark our passing with such state?
This is the perfume of our ice-cold veins:
We made considerable mirth of fate,
And on the stair of Hell we break our chains.
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