THE CONTEMPTIBLE NEUTRAL by CHARLOTTE PERKINS STETSON GILMAN

THE world was full of battle —
The whole world, far and wide;
Men and women and children
Were fighting on either side.

I was sent from the hottest combat
With a message of life and death,
Black with smoke and red with blood,
Weary and out of breath.

Forced to linger a moment
And bind a stubborn wound,
Cursing the hurt that kept me back
From the fiery battle ground —

When I found a cheerful stranger,
Calm, critical, serene,
Well sheltered from all danger,
Painting a battle scene.

He was cordially glad to see me —
The coolly smiling wretch —
And inquired with admiration:
"Do you mind if I make a sketch?"

So he had me down in a minute,
With murmurs of real delight;
My "color" was "delicious;"
My "action" was "just right!"

And he prattled on with ardor
Of the moving scene below;
Of the "values" of the smoke-wreaths,
And the "splendid rush and go;"

Of the headlong desperate charges
Where a thousand lives were spent:
Of the "massing" in the foreground
With the "middle distance" blent.

Said I: "You speak serenely
Of the living death in view;
These are human creatures dying —
Are you not human too?

"This is a present battle
Where all men strive to-day;
How does it chance you sit apart?
Which is your banner — say?"

His fresh cheek blanched a little,
And he answered with a smile
That he fought not on either side;
He was watching a little while.

"Watching," said I, "and neutral!
Neutral in times like these!"
And I plucked him off his sketching stool
And brought him to his knees.

I stripped him of his travelling cloak
And showed him to the sky —
By his uniform — a traitor!
By his handiwork — a spy!

I dragged him back to the field he left —
To the fate he was fitted for.
We have no place for lookers-on,
While all the world's at war!

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