And such a poor pretext was theirs!
Old women pierced by bayonets grim
And babies slaughtered for a whim,
Cathedrals made the sport of shells,
No mercy, even for a child,
As though the imps of all the hells
Were crazed with drink and running wild.
All this we fight—that some day when
Good sense shall come again to men,
Our children's children may not read