This is no case of petty right or
That politicians or
Can judge.
I hate not Germans, nor grow
With love of Englishmen, to please newspapers.
Beside my hate for one fat
My hatred of the Kaiser is love true:—A kind of god he is, banging a gong.
But I have not to choose between the two,
Or between justice and injustice.
With war and argument I read no
Than in the storm smoking along the
Athwart the wood.
Two witches' cauldrons roar.
From one the weather shall rise clear and gay;
Out of the other an England
And like her mother that died yesterday.
Little I know or care if, being dull,
I shall miss something that
Can rake out of the ashes when
The phoenix broods serene above their ken.
But with the best and meanest EnglishmenI am one in crying,
God save England,
We lose what never slaves and cattle blessed.
The ages made her that made us from dust:
She is all we know and live by, and we
She is good and must endure, loving her so:
And as we love ourselves we hate her foe.26 Nov 1915
