THE CRANK'S COMPLAINT.
(On seeing Mr. Henry Newbolt's name in the New Year's Honour List).
Because his verses always aim,
With one unwearying design,
At adding lustre to the fame
Achieved by Britain on the brine;
Because they fail to satisfy
The sex-besotted catechist—
It very nearly makes me cry
To see him in the Honour List.
Because he holds in high respect
The knightly courtesies of war,
Does not bow down to intellect,
And steeps himself in Froissart's lore;
Because he bids us play the game
And not the super-egotist—
I do not care to see his name
Included in the Honour List.
Because he has not eulogized
The operas of Richard Strauss,
Or liberally recognized
Keir Hardie's courage in the House;
Because he's more an errant knight
Than Pacifist or Chauvinist—
I feel it is not fair or right
To put him in the Honour List.
Because he has not wreathed with bays
The brow of good Sir William Byles
Or lavished undiluted praise
Upon the food of Eustace Miles;
Or urged that we should subsidize
The cult of the Theosophist—
It fills me with a sick surprise
To find him in the Honour List.
Because he hasn't written odes
In praise of Norman Angell's views,
Or aped the fashionable modes
Which modern versifiers use;
Because he writes with much restraint
And is, in style, a Classicist—
It very nearly makes me faint
To see him in the Honour List.
In fine, while Masterman—O Fi
For Asquith's everlasting shame!—
MacDonald, Cadbury and I
Have each no handle to his name;
While Handel Booth's well-earned O.M.
Is still conspicuously missed—
I can't sufficiently condemn
The framing of the Honour List.