I admit it. I cannot enter The humanitarian romance. As a chauvinist, a hundred-percenter, I love your ancient lands, O France! Apostles with the gift of gab By whom the Cross on high is swirled With the words of Schiller stab: "We are citizens of the world!" Alas, I've heard it rise before, That vain, delusive clamor. But with wild hatred's fiercest roar The invasion blurred the glamor. And now they're starting to sweet-face Those who have made us bend the knee: "Brotherlands, let us embrace!" What pitiable lunacy! My age has carved its epitaph; Now this proud land grovels low. And in fury, on your staff You tremble, standard, at the blow! Struck crazy by the carnage-gore, Demagogues reared by the common hand Tell us there will be nevermore A frontier or a fatherland. Delusion! Madman's dream in the sky! "Which is closer to you—ah, Tell me, little one passing by, The neighbor's wife, or your mamma?" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DESPAIR by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON A MAN CHILD IS BORN (1809) by EDGAR LEE MASTERS PEACE; A STUDY by CHARLES STUART CALVERLEY THE SWAMP ANGEL by HERMAN MELVILLE RIVALRY IN LOVE by WILLIAM WALSH (1663-1707) THE DESTINY OF GENIUS by MARIA ABDY DESCRIBES THE PLACE WHERE CYNTHIA IS SPORTING HERSELF by PHILIP AYRES TO JOANNA, ON SENDING ME THE LEAF OF A FLOWER ... WORDSWORTH'S GARDEN by BERNARD BARTON |