But you were called familiarly “Old Nick”—
The Devil, yet a gentleman you know!
Relentless—true, yet courteous to a foe.
Man’s soul your traffic was. You would not kick
His bloody entrails flying in the air.
Oh, “Krieg ist Krieg,” we know, and “C’est la guerre!”
But Satan, don’t you feel a trifle sick?
AT AFTERNOON TEA
(Triolet)
We have taken a trench
Near Combles, I see,