You thought that I would fail to see it through!
You thought that, at the crux of things, I'd cower!
How little, how imperfectly you knew
The Conning Tower!
You'll miss the column at the break of day.
I have no fear that I shall be forgotten.
You'll miss the daily privilege to say:
"That stuff is rotten!"
Or else—as sometimes has occurred—when I
Have chanced upon a lucky line to blunder,
You'll miss the precious privilege to cry:
"That bird's a wonder!"
Well, William, when your people cease to strafe,
When you have put an end to all this war stuff,
When all the world is reasonably safe,
I'll write some more stuff.
And when you miss the quip and wanton wile,
And learn you can't endure the Towerless season,
O William, I shall not be petty ... I'll
Listen to reason.
To W. Hohenzollern, on Resuming The Conning Tower
Well, William, since I wrote you long ago—
As I recall, one cool October morning—
(I have The Tribune files. They clearly show
I gave you warning.)
Since when I penned that consequential ode,
The world has seen a vast amount of slaughter,
And under many a Gallic bridge has flowed
A lot of water.