 | The Collected Poems of T. W. H. Crosland |  |
131
To the Kaiser
[With a Child's Drum]
He was three years old, a mirthful, tumbling wight,
To see your cohorts pass, he stood at stare,
Unwitting, but pleased; and out of his delight
He laughed you forth a Vive l'Angleterre.
To see your cohorts pass, he stood at stare,
Unwitting, but pleased; and out of his delight
He laughed you forth a Vive l'Angleterre.
Boiled the insulted blood in the high veins
Of the most puissant and invincible
(Whose fathers, spat upon, remarked “It rains!”):
Your soldier fired—rebellious innocence fell.
Of the most puissant and invincible
(Whose fathers, spat upon, remarked “It rains!”):
Your soldier fired—rebellious innocence fell.
Wherefore we send you, Conqueror, a child's drum,
And you shall beat upon it as you go
Bloodily stalking to your crazy doom—
The plaything of your murdered baby foe.
And you shall beat upon it as you go
Bloodily stalking to your crazy doom—
The plaything of your murdered baby foe.
| The Collected Poems of T. W. H. Crosland | |