Belgium, quiescent under Culture's law,
Serves as a type of Teutonised Utopia;
And, as for U.S.A.,
They're scheduled to arrive behind The Day.
Why, then, this talk of Peace? The victor's meed
Lies underneath your nose—why not continue?
Because humanity makes your bosom bleed;
So, though you have a giant's strength within you,
Your gentle heart would shrink
To use it like a giant—I don't think.