O, Mighty Atlas, thou hast borne the load
Of hapless peoples smarting from the goad
Of Tyranny, until thy giant strength
Seems overtaxed and doomed to break at length.
Unless thy vim endures with steadfast force;
Unless thy Ship of State keeps on its course;
Unless thou gird thy loins and stand astride,
Colossus-like, the struggles that betide—
While all the Furies strive, the Turk and Hun,
To sap thy power—undo what thou hast done—
Of what avail will all thy efforts be
Against the tottering walls of Tyranny?
And to what purpose will have lived thy men
Who won imposing fame with sword or pen?
And what, I pray, will all thy thousands slain
Avail thy Empire if they've died in vain?

PREPAREDNESS

The Ostrich has his wings, but not for flight;
He flies on foot when danger is in sight;
His mate lays eggs upon the desert reaches
And "sands" them over when the leopard screeches.
The eggs, thus mounded, fall an easy prey
To feline foragers who slink that way.
The Ostrich, thus, guards not his nest: instead
He hides, in burning sands, his shameless head
And lets his monoplane and rudder be
Stripped of their plumage by an enemy.
Ostriches should Carry
Their Eggs in a Basket
And use their Feathers
For Dusting over the Desert.
The Squirrel is quite a different kind of fowl:
He works while others sleep, the sly old owl!
And stores up food, against the rainy day,
In secret nooks, from forest thieves away.
When winter comes, or when besieged by foes,
Securely housed he feasts and thumbs his nose
And ridicules starvation: he's immune!
While others, shiftless, sing another tune.
The Squirrel, you see, is much misfortune spared
In times of stress because he is prepared.
Improvident Nuts
Should Tear a Leaf
From the Squirrel's Diary.
A Heifer on the Railroad Crossing stood
Chewing Contentment's Cud, as heifers should,—
When, rushing madly, "late again," there came
The Noonday Mail. The Heifer was to blame
For choosing her position, I would say,
Because the Engine had the Right of Whey.
The Cow was unprepared! Her switching tail
Failed signally to flag the Noonday Mail.
But why keep beefing over milk that's spilled?
She heeded not the sign and thus was killed.
Heifers with Unprotected
Flanks should not Invite
Rear-guard Actions.
The Busy Bee improves the shining hours
And gathers honey from the fragrant flowers.
When Winter comes, forsaking field and rill,
He hivernates, but lives in clover still.
While Famine stalks without, his Home, Sweet Home
Is stored with tempting food from floor to dome.
He never lacks, nor has to buy, but cells
His surplus food gleaned from the flower-fringed dells.
A thrifty fellow is the Busy Bee
And fortified against Emergency.
A Bee's Ears
Contain no Wax
And he Saves his Combings
Against the Baldness of Old Age.
The Mule is well equipped but lacks the mind;
His strategy is in his heels, behind.
If pointed wrong, his practice is not dreaded,
But kick he will, no matter how he's headed.
With foresight lacking, hindsight to the fore,
He'll be just simple Mule forevermore;
Without the range or sight he'll blaze away
And thwart his purpose with his brazen bray.
If well-directed effort were his cult
No fortress could withstand his catapult.
A Mule should Conserve
His Ammunition and
Not Shoot-off his Mouth.
The Burglar, have you noticed? never troubles
To look for petty loot in obscure hovels.
He packs his kit and steals adown the road
To Gaspard Moneybags' renowned abode.
He knows the house-plan ("inside" dope, no
doubt)
And when he's in, old Moneybags is out.
But Jimmy does not dent the window-sash;
He enters thru the door and gets the cash.
Prepared? Well, yes! He knew just where to look,
For Nora hung the key upon the hook.
Team-work is
The Handmaiden
Of Efficiency.
It pays to be Prepared, you see, and so
The Snail in Armored Car goes safe, tho' slow;
And Alligators in their Coats of Mail
Withstand assaults where those, defenceless, fail.
The Tortoise totes his Caripace around
And dwells in safety where his foes abound;
While Wasps, with poisoned javelins, defend
Successfully their offspring to the end.
A Sheep with ramparts has no thought of fear,
But guards his buttress when his foes appear,
And any Skunk can frighten and harass
An Army with Asphyxiating Gas.

THE FUGITIVE KISS

How I loved her! There on the gate we'd lean,
(The dear, old gate that never gave away
The loving nothings we were wont to say)
From day to day,
And sometimes after dark;
She was my Angel-Sweetheart, just sixteen.
But I was shy! And while I longed to taste
The nectar of her lips, I was afraid
To draw her to my breast and kiss the Maid:
But I essayed!
And this is what I drew—
"There's Papa with the bulldog, so make haste!"
What could I do? The "bark" was flecked with foam,
And old man Jones was meaner than a cur;
So there I stood 'twixt fear, and love of her
And didn't stir
Until they came: and then
I kissed them all Good-bye and beat it home.

NEW MEXICAN NATIONAL ANTHEM

My Country vast and grand,
Sweet Montezuma Land,
My Stingareé.
Land of the Knife and Gun,
Villa and Scorpion;
Land of the Evil One
I weep for thee!
Smallpox and Rattlesnakes
Lurk in thy Cactus brakes,
And Yellow Jack.
Spiders and Centipedes
Gloat o'er thy murd'rous deeds:
To cure thy crying needs,
Call Diaz back.
Tarantula and Flies
Poison your lands and skies:
Behold your graves!
Carranza's waving beard
By Pancho's Band is feared,
And will be till he's sheared
Or dyes or shaves.
Horned Toads and Vampire Bats,
Gilas and Mountain Cats,
Where'er you go!
Buzzards and Vultures reign
Over a million slain;
And Mescal is the bane
Of Mexico.
O, Land of Chili con
Carne and Obregon,
Let murders cease!
Keep Freedom's fires aglow
Where La Frijólés grow;
Throw up your Sombrero
And Keep the Peace!

LOVE

I

Love is the Mecca of our Heart's Desire:
We worship at its shrine and feel its thrill;
Burning our Hopes upon its Altar Fire
Till Passion be consumed, but not until.

II

Then Love assumes a calmer mood, when spent—
His quiver empty and his bow unstrung—
And peers into the pleasing Past, content
To live, unmoved, his memories among.

STRONGARM'S WATERLOO

Some drive! From tee to green in one: par, three!
That's putting proper English on, you see!
And, Goodness Golfus! See the ball roll up
To easy putting distance from the cup.
Who is this man? Professional, no doubt!
He'll "card" a thirty-seven going out;
And if he gets the "breaks" he'll make, methinks,
A new low record for the Piedmont Links.
See with what confidence he wends his way
The Fairway thru to make his hole out play!
The Gallery, expectant, follows thru
To see the Champion go down in two.
Then to the ball he makes his last address,
(The ball was peeved at what he said, I guess)
And pulls his gooseneck back a foot or so
Before he hits the sphere the fateful blow.
Alas for human frailty! See it flit
Across the green into the sandy pit!
The sighing winds, in protest, moaned Beware!
While he invoked the Deity in prayer.
And then he played his third, but topped the sphere,
The Rubber Rogue responding with a leer.
A halo hung around the Stranger's head
It seemed: but, nay! 'twas brimstone fire instead,
For what he said, in type is not displayed
Except on fire-proof paper, I'm afraid.
Four! Five! Six! But still far from the goal!
The Player loses all his self-control
And breaks the "goose" in twain: then hark the din,
When Caddie trails the ball and kicks it in!
Far from the scene of strife the Club House becks
The weary Golfers on their inward treks;
And close beside, beneath the porch's shade,
The Nineteenth hole dispenses lemonade
And other cheering drinks, within the law;
But little ice that cuts: who cares a straw?

THE SPIRIT OF FRANCE

Yes! I've done my bit, as you fellows would say,
If serving one's country deserves any praise:
Two years at the front, then an arm shot away!
And this is my "cross" in reward for those days.
But I can do more! While there's blood in my veins
I'll give the last drop, while the hoof of the Hun
Polluted and cloven in Alsace remains:
Until France is free we must fight: every one!
Of course I'll go back to the trenches again:
My wound is fast healing and soon will be sound;
Six chevrons have I, but I'll fight with the men
Who fill up the shell-holes like moles in the ground.
I'll charge with the Boys when they hurdle the top,
The Tri-color lashed to my half-useless arm,
With pistol or sword in my hand, till I drop:
For Freedom is menaced: Go sound the alarm!
France needs every son, be they crippled or strong,
To rid our fair land of the murderous horde:
So flock to the Colors, Brave Boys: come along!
And fight till the Glory of France is restored!
Our women are outraged, our children enslaved;
Up, Frenchmen! and strike till the last dying breath!
We can never turn back, so be it engraved
On our spears and escutcheons,—Vengeance or Death!

WAR

Down by the village runs the stream
Once placid, now a raging flood:
Behold it, by the day's last gleam
Gorged with the dead and dyed with blood.
The Chapel bell has tolled its last;
The trees are bare, tho this be Spring:
Death's shroud is on the village cast,
And Ruin reigns o'er everything.
A grist of carnage clogs the Mill,
And shells have razed the quondam homes:
Fresh graves the trampled vineyards fill,
Whose cellars are but catacombs.
Beyond the village, Refugees
Stand, herded, cowed by fear and grief,
Or, gassed, implore on bended knees
For death, despairing of relief.
With bayonets and faces set
The Grenadiers, by L'Aiglon led,
Present a gruesome parapet,—
Thus, still defending, tho they're dead.

SONG OF THE SAMSONS

We are Samsons, Biff! Boom! Bang!
Here to pot the Potsdam Gang.
If Bad Bill is found in Metz,
We'll not vouch for what he gets!
If in Essen he is caught,
Good Night! Kultur, Him und Gott!
Shades of Bismarck! Watch him faint
When he finds his Empire ain't!
To our Sweethearts we said "Knit,"
We must go and do our Bit!
How d'ye do, Pierrot? Pierrette?
We are friends of Lafayette!
Wait until our Drive begins,—
Bill, you'll suffer for your sins!
Sick 'em, Prince! We'll tie the fuse
Onto Frederich Wilhelm's shoes.
When we occupy Cologne—
Phew! How big and strong you've grown!
We will paint each shop and lodge
With bright red in camouflage!
Then to Carlsbad we will swing;
Need the baths like everything!
Frauleins leave your fears behind;
We don't war on womankind!
We are filled with fire and zeal:
Watch us pick the locks to Kiel!
We are coming to our own
In Lorraine across the Rhone!
When our Flocks of Eaglets fly--
Dunder! Blitzen! Bill, Good-bye!
Beaks of Steel and Claws of Lead--
Sun eclipsed! The Geezer's dead.
CHORUS
O, you U Boats,
That for U!
We slipped thru you;
How d'y' do?
Hindenberg? Ach, let him rant!
He won't stop us 'cause he can't!
Zepps and Taubs are falling down;
Butcher Bill will lose his crown;
Watch your step, you Horrid Hun,
You can't goosestep when you run!
Hooray for the crimson, white and blue!
'Rah for Old Glory! Chapeau bas vous!
'Rah for the Tri-Color! We're at home
In la belle France by the eau de Somme;
Hooray for our Allies true and brave!
We'll all sweep thru like a tidal wave
Over the top in a mighty Drive--
And never stop while the Hunds survive!

SIX DAYS

O, the comfort we feel
When we finish a meal
Consisting of rice cakes and whey;
Because beyond question
There's no indigestion
At the end of a Meatless day.
When the "buck" dough doth rise
From y'East to the skies
And hot griddled pancakes—oh, say!
With sausages frying
There's no use denying
Your welcome, O Wheatless day.
When the house is afrost
Without fuel: its cost
Is more than we're able to pay:
With our hearts all aglow
We can thaw ice or snow
Making light of a Heatless day.
When there's discord with wife
There's a shadow on life
That once was so sunny and gay;
But billing and cooing
Subordinate stewing
At the end of a Sweetless day!
When will beefsteak and ham
Not be sold by the gram?
How long will these high prices stay?
When the bad Profiteers
Show contrition and tears
At the dawn of a Cheatless day.
When our Soldiers in France
Do their Indian dance
And scalp all the Huns in the fray,
The Kaiser will holler,
With rope for a collar,
At the end of his Ruthless day!

A PROTEST

While now 'tis meet to eat fish, eggs and maize,
Vice meat and wheat whene'er we dine or sup,
So be it! but this protest I would raise—
In spite of warnings—veal keeps bobbing up!

A PRAYER

O Sun and Skies, that Hoover o'er our Fields
Where Grains implanted lie, and Silos stand,—
Pour out thy Warmth and Rains till Hunger yields
Thruout the World to our blest Fodderland!

SINCE THE LITTLE ONE CAME

I seem to have taken a new lease on life
Since the little one came;
I've lost the old grouch, and I say to my wife,
Do you think I'm to blame
Because I have changed in my feelings towards you
Since the Little One came?
The furnace, 'tis true, gave me something to do,
But I think it a shame
That some tiny tie like the Little One here
(How is Snooks for a name?)
Was not sooner left on our doorstep, my dear!
The Store takes my time, but a very small part,—
It's all over at four!
I've cut Clancy's out and have made a new start;
All my cronies are sore!
But what do I care? I have mended my ways,
So I rush from the Store
And hasten back home where the Little One plays
On the ruggèd hall floor,
And pick him up quick (O, how pretty he looks!)
Without shutting the door;
So anxious I am to caress little Snooks.
The chafing-dish chafes and the Joy-car is sore;
We have given them up!
The Two-step and Bridge are tabooed evermore;
There is Joy in our Cup!
We've cut out the movies and dining about
For our own modest sup;
And billiards and golfing, I've cut them both out!
As I did to the Hup.
With playthings and drum (and a ruppy, tup, tup!)
Loaded up like a Krupp,
I beat it to Snooky,—our English Bull Pup.

RUN ALONG, LITTLE GIRL!

Run along, Little Girl! for it's bed-time now:
Your Dollies are sleepy and poor old Bow-wow
Is weary and lonesome, curled up in a heap—
'Twould take little rocking to put him to sleep!
Your Teddy Bear's growling: or is it a snore?
Perhaps he objects to his bed on the floor?
So pick up your treasures and when prayers are said—
Run along, Little Girl, and climb in to bed!
Run along, Little Girl! The Sandman is here;
You've crowded too much into one day, I fear!
Poor, little, tired Girlie, you've worked at your play
Till the bloom of your cheeks has faded away.
To-morrow, again, you can sit by the fire
And dress all your Dollies in gala attire.
Say, Good Night! to your thimble, needle and seams;
Run along, Little Girl, and sweet be your dreams!
Run along, Little Girl, and cover up tight!
There's nothing to harm you, no spooks in the night
Nor Bogeymen glaring when you are awake;
For they're bad little girls that Bogeymen take.

A RETROSPECT

Picture a Home with love aglow and laughter
Reverberating from each joist and rafter;
A sweet-faced Mother kissing you "Good Night"!
With "Go to sleep! lest Santa Claus take fright
And dashes by—leaving no books or toys
For naughty, wide-eyed, little girls and boys."
Then see her tip-toe down the stairs, and trim
The tree—a toy on ev'ry outstretched limb;
The rocking-horse and wagon at the base,
And candy-stockings in the big fireplace:
For thus we retrospect to show, no other
Would scheme and work and "fabricate" like Mother
To make our Christmas Day a grand fruition,
And keep the secret of its sweet tradition.

THE EAGLE SCREAMS

We have arrived! America is First!
Here Freedom cradled; here its pæan burst
Upon the ears of nations, near and far
Till Light of Freedom is the Guiding Star
Thruout the world; though Thraldom still obscures
The Guiding Star where Tyranny endures.
'Twas ever thus till Boston's "Reb" array
Upset King George's teapot in the Bay,
And Pegasus, whom we Revere, astride
His high-bred hobby, warned the countryside.
Before that time the Briton played the game
Of pour la tea or Golf (its proper name).
With confidence and brassie nerve, methinks,
Until they struck a Bunker on our links
That thwarted all their prowess—'pon my soul!
And left them groggy at the nineteenth hole.
But still they puttered 'round and drank our rum
Till Washington's avenging time had come;
When, with his army, steeled at Valley Forge,
He, George the First, uncrowned the other George,
And all the "red-breasts," from our eyries shooed
Where now the Bird of Freedom guards his brood.

THE SERVICE STAR

The stars are agleam in their azurine field,
Diffusing effulgence afar;
But magnitude, lustre and fixedness yield
To the glorious Service Star.
In aureate setting, a pendant aglare,
Is the radiant Service Star;
That blazes with fire like a rare solitaire,
A gift to the Valkyr of War.
Protect thou our treasure, O, Valkyr! Restore
Our Jewel so priceless! and bar
From Valhalla's Dungeons, where Death's torrents pour,
Our sanctified Service Star!

SOME DAY

Some day when the war is ended
And we sail from France away,
With sorrow and longings blended,
Back home to America;
And we live once more in Blighty
A thousand years in a day,
In the Land of God Almighty
Where the Old Folks watch and pray:
Some day, when we hit the pillow
Again on a box-spring bed,
As snug as an armadillo
With his shell-protected head;
When bugles refrain from tooting,
And noises of battle stop;
When victory ends recruiting,
Or charging Over the Top:
Some day! when we're thru with fighting
And the beaten Hun retreats;
When the Cooties cease from biting
And we sleep between the sheets!

THE CRUISE OF THE SEA SERPENT

And now behold the Merchant Submarine!
Only its peeking periscope is seen,
But what a cyclorama it reveals
To those below! Thru surging seas it steals
And vies with dolphins, porpoises and sharks
To keep apace with brigantines and barks;
And, tho itself unseen, it's proud to show
To what low depths a submarine can go.
The Cyclops sees as well by night as day;
Its father, Neptune, gives it right of way:
Amphibious, it rides the Ocean's crest,
Or in its sunken Gardens takes its rest.
This new-type boat we designate as It
Because no other pronoun seems to fit.
No water-laden craft could be a He,
Nor one unspoken could be rated She.
The Germans call it unter: O. U. Cargo!
They aim to close the bar on the embargo.
Beneath the waves no lurching doth it feel
But speeds its course upon an even keel.
With duplex engines and a double crew,
(It's "manned" by mermaids when it's hid from view).
It scoffs at dangers, tho they lurk around,
And shuts its eye to perils that abound.
There's scant spare space, but still its ribs enfold
A priceless cargo in its shallow hold.
Past hostile ships into a neutral haven,
It comes up smiling with all flags a wavin'.
But now these "Cargo Craft" throw off disguise
And cut our neutral throats: it's no surprise
That dastards, who as "scraps of paper" rate
Their solemn Treaties, would thus lie in wait
And murder innocents without emotion,
Making a shambles of the outraged Ocean.
Now lashed to fury, see the waves rebel
And sweep these Prussian Pirates down to Hell!
No longer neutral the Avenging Sword
Is in our hands to smite the Hun-hound horde.
The God of Joshua, in righteous wrath
Will, in its flight thru empyrean path,
Command the Sun to stop: it is His will!
Till Kultur be effaced—and not until.

AMERICA

America, Crusader in the Cause
Of Liberty, before thy shrine we pause
And offer grateful prayer that thou art Right
In making demonstration of thy Might.
Without a thought of Conquest doth thou draw
Thine honored sword for Liberty and Law,
That Nations of a common tongue, tho weak,
May gain the Peace with Freedom that they seek;
And occupy again, when battles cease,
Their places in the Firmament of Peace.
Fight on! Defender of the Cause! till Truth
Shall banish Tyranny and Wars forsooth,
And throttle Kultur and its godless School,
Till Teutons, purged, obey the Golden Rule!

LIFE AND LOVE

Life is the Echo of the Buried Past;
A Soul reclaimed, an Atom born anew:
Its fire burns on, tho flickering at the last,
And finds its grand fulfillment, Love, in you.

LIFE IN DEATH

Why should we dread the Messenger of Death?
Who comes as friend when sufferings beset,
And gives surcease of pain with final breath
So that Life leaves, rejoiced, without regret.

GERMANY

O, Hun, from what low beast didst thou descend?
That thou shouldst have the lust to kill and rend;
The bestial passion to enjoy the groans
Of suffering victims, while you crunch their bones
Or gouge their eyes, that mutely plead in vain
For quick oblivion and ease from pain?
Of ponderous cast and savage mien, what teat,
With Hatred filled and Passion's fiery heat,
Reared thee more wolf than man? ill-bred,—a curse
To thine own kind, and to the Universe!

ITALY

Italians, hold! Rienzi pleads again
Against the Tyrants: hold if ye be men!
Let not the foe despoil your fertile lands
Or wrest historic treasures from your hands!
Guard well your daughters! Shield your budding sons!
Lest they be maimed or murdered by the Huns.
Soldiers of Italy, would ye be slaves
To Teuton hordes? Behold the sacred graves
Of Garibaldi and your martyred dead
Who made ye Freemen! Wouldst be slaves instead?
The Alpine Passes that were yours are lost;
Your Northern Rivers have been reached and crossed;
Hold, Romans, hold! Halt further Teuton gains,
And drive their looting legions from your plains!
Hold! Men of Italy! Your wall of steel
Can save fair Venice from the Despot's heel:
Hold! Every man! for Honor, Country, Home—
And for the Glory of Eternal Rome!

MARY IS MERRY NO MORE

The Lamb that accompanied Mary
Without aid of cudgel or rope,
Was raised by her sire Elder Berry,
And washed with dioxygen soap.
Its fleece, like the linen-spread table,
Was snow-white: the lambkin was prized
And kept from the sheep in the stable
Who never were deodorized.
The lamb had a yearning for knowledge,
And schoolward would follow the lass
Till she was admitted to college,
A graduate out of his class.
Then sheep-eyes were made by the teacher,
And Mary was quick to decide
'Twixt him and the poor, woolly creature
Who made lambentations and died.
She married her Teacher,—a lesson!
Dyspeptic and old, he's a fright!
Her thoughts fail of fitting expression,
So she lams her own kids just for spite.
She looks at her spouse with deep loathing,
And sighs for her dead quadruped,
And wishes the "wolf in sheep's clothing"—
Her husband, were dead in his stead.
Alas, lass! You've forded the ferry;
Your tombstone was graven for two;
The lamb, chiseled there, stands for Mary,
And the Old English Mary for yew.
The lamb reached the end of his tether
When Mary ascended on High,
But surely, in spite of the wether,
They'll meet in the Sweet Bye-and-Bye.

I SHOT AN ARROW

I shot an arrow: how it sang!
It was a poisoned arrow!
And when it turned, a boomerang,
It chilled me to the marrow.
I know not where the arrow struck,
And care but little whether
It came straight back or ran amuck
Upon the near-by heather.
But this I know; however fast
The arrow homeward scurried,
My getaway was unsurpassed—
For, Goodness, how I hurried!

FIXING THE BLAME

The almost-King of Verdun, still uncrowned,
Wearied of driving, walked the ramparts 'round
To see his father, Mr. William Kaiser,
Who was to him an Oracle and wiser.
"O Sire! Inform me! Tell your first-born son,
Who caused the War, and why it was begun?
Who slipped the leash, and what was the excuse
For turning Europe's rabid War Dogs loose?
Did you? Or was it Cousin George, or Nick
Who stacked the cards and played the dirty trick?
Or was it Joe, or Ferdinand, or Grey
Who sawed the bridge and pulled the props away?"
"My Son, I swear by all the periscopes
And Zeppelins to which I pin my hopes;
By all the Ocean Sharks and Bats a-sky,
By Gott-in-Himmel! As I hope to die,
I'm not to blame! I didn't use the spurs,
Or try to overwork Geographers!
I fought for Peace, and ne'er defiance hurled,
Altho' the Fatherland should rule the world.
But here's the truth: a secret I'll disclose!
A stranger 'twas who made us come to blows!
It happened thus: a mighty Nimrod came
From Afric wilds, where he had played the game
Until his cudgel bore a hundred nicks,
(A record this for all Prodigious Sticks)
To Germany. No pussyfoot was his,
But there was courage in his Nobel phiz;
And in his stride were energy and grace
Enough to make the goose-step commonplace.
I took him to my Palace, as my guest,
And poured libations from the cellar's best,
(He was a certified non-drinker—See?
So just accord this proper secrecy!)
And then arranged to hold a Grand Review
Of all my Armies and Reservists too.
'De-lighted!' said my guest, and nothing more,
As we reviewed my legions corps by corps;
But this blunt comment signified his zeal,
And so I mobilized my fleet at Kiel;
And on my Royal Yacht, my guest and I
Watched the maneuvres as my ships passed by.
'De-lighted, Bill!' the Hardy Hunter shouted—
'With such a fleet I'd have the whole world routed;
And with your armies I would soon disperse
The Fighting Units of the Universe!'
Such praise was pleasing to my ears, altho
My Wasps and Devil-fish I didn't show:
I deemed it best to meld this 'hundred aces'
When all my ships and men were in their places.
Had he seen these, I knew he would advise
The conquest of the Earth and Seas and Skies:
But, Shades of Bismarck! that, you understand
Might prove a strain upon the Fatherland.
And so I kept the Peace, but thought about
The many martial plans we figured out;
And how the cost of my Frontier Defences
Compared with his proposed campaign expenses.
You see, Mein Heir, this man was full of guile
And caused the War: this Bey of Oyster Isle.
He hypnotized me: put it in my mind
To be the Potentate of all Mankind!
So blame me not! The fault I must disown,
And put the guilt on Theodore alone!
Whatever comes anon, I'm not whipped yet!
And with it all, I have but one regret—
That he was not impressed to lead my drive
To Petersburg to take the Czar alive;
And then, a Marshal, ordered to Paree
To capture it and bring it back to me;
Then take my fleet, the English Channel over
And put King George to rout and bombard Dover;
And then supplant the Sultan, take his Fez
And lead my peerless Forces to Suez.
While you have failed, and Hindenburg and Mack,
He never fizzles when he makes attack.
See what I've missed! for, see what he has done!
And yet his vast campaign is just begun.
He leads his Legions, Bull Moose, Calf and Cow
To capture a Convention even now."
An orderly approached the Royal Pair
Just at this stage and left despatches there.
He stood at close attention, hand to head,
While this absorbing cablegram was read—
"Outflanked and captured; resignation tendered;
Mooses dehorned and all the herd surrendered!
Am looking for another job already,—
Would take the German Presidency—Teddy."
The Kaiser turned, looked at the Prince and wept,
While noxious gases o'er the bulwarks crept.

LOVE'S RECOMPENSE