 | War poems |  |
59
A Rhyme of Right or Wrong
“Though the race be to the swift
And the battle to the strong
History must one day sift
What is right from what is wrong.
And the battle to the strong
History must one day sift
What is right from what is wrong.
“History alone can show
Warring nations their true fame,
And on each of them bestow
Proper shares of praise and blame.
Warring nations their true fame,
And on each of them bestow
Proper shares of praise and blame.
“We are right? Let's hope we are:
But how dreadful it would be
If we chanced to win the war
And no praise from History!
But how dreadful it would be
If we chanced to win the war
And no praise from History!
“Therefore clasp Herr Murderer's fist,
Offer terms to Lustundloot,—
Is he not a Socialist?
And an expert with the flute?
Offer terms to Lustundloot,—
Is he not a Socialist?
And an expert with the flute?
60
“Keeping on is wrong indeed—
Germans feel and love and pray:
If you prick them don't they bleed
Like the Hebrew in the play?”
Germans feel and love and pray:
If you prick them don't they bleed
Like the Hebrew in the play?”
Thus the babblers more or less
Platitudinously present
To the public consciousness
An uplifting argument. . . .
Platitudinously present
To the public consciousness
An uplifting argument. . . .
History! you've always burned
For sheer justice just too late;
But so far as we're concerned
Put this on your little slate:—
For sheer justice just too late;
But so far as we're concerned
Put this on your little slate:—
Right or wrong we did not sheathe
Britain's sword till the last Hun
Carried back his loosened teeth
To his own place in the sun.
Britain's sword till the last Hun
Carried back his loosened teeth
To his own place in the sun.
Right or wrong we did not rest
Till we'd laid that sovereign herb
Comfort, on the outraged breast
Of the Belgian and the Serb.
Till we'd laid that sovereign herb
Comfort, on the outraged breast
Of the Belgian and the Serb.
Right or wrong we watched with France
From the Alps unto the sea,
Through the night of black mischance
Till the dawn of victory.
From the Alps unto the sea,
Through the night of black mischance
Till the dawn of victory.
61
Right or wrong we smashed the yoke
Greed had forged for the world's neck;
Right or wrong we dealt the stroke
Which brought Kaiserdom to wreck.
Greed had forged for the world's neck;
Right or wrong we dealt the stroke
Which brought Kaiserdom to wreck.
Right or wrong we never hid
Our belief that wars would cease;
Right or wrong we made a bid
For the thousand years of peace.
Our belief that wars would cease;
Right or wrong we made a bid
For the thousand years of peace.
Right or wrong for this we gave
Our young sons to death and doom,—
Every garden had its grave,
Every field a hecatomb.
Our young sons to death and doom,—
Every garden had its grave,
Every field a hecatomb.
Right or wrong the German mob
Got their ultimate meal of grit;
(Right or wrong we took the job,
Right or wrong we finished it.)
Got their ultimate meal of grit;
(Right or wrong we took the job,
Right or wrong we finished it.)
Right or wrong our faith was true
Though the end seemed “not in sight”;
Right or wrong we muddled through
And were thankful—wrong or right.
Though the end seemed “not in sight”;
Right or wrong we muddled through
And were thankful—wrong or right.
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