TO THE KAISER FOR HIS NEW YEAR.
Now with the New-born Year, when people issue
Greetings appropriate to all concerned,
Allow me, WILLIAM, cordially to wish you
Whatever peace of mind you may have earned;
It doesn't sound too fat,
But you will have to be content with that.
For you will get no other, though you ask it;
No peace on diplomatic folios writ,
Like what you chucked in your waste-treaty-basket,
Torn into fragments, bit by little bit;
In these rude times we shrink
From vain expenditure of pulp and ink.
You hoped to start a further scrap of paper
And stretched a flattering paw in soft appeal,
Purring as hard as tiger-cats at play purr
With velvet padding round your claws of steel;
A pretty piece of acting,
But, ere we treat, those claws'll want extracting.
You thought that you had just to moot the question
And say you felt the closing hour had come
And we should simply jump at your suggestion
And all the Hague with overtures would hum;
You'd but to call her up,
And Peace would follow like a well-bred pup.
But Peace and War are twain (see Chadband's platitude);
War you could summon by your single self,
But Peace—for she adopts a stickier attitude—
Takes two to mobilise her off the shelf;
Unless one side's so weak
That, try his best, he cannot raise a squeak.
When things are thus and you have had your beating,
We'll talk and you can listen. Better cheer
I've none to offer you by way of greeting,
But this should help you through the glad New Year;
It lacks for grace, I own,
But let its true sincerity atone!
O.S.