Tell us to know, gentle chickadee of disarmed nations,
Why is thy matinee music-song
So heartlus and without feet?
Like the melody of hand-saws playing upon rusty nail, like a leak in a bagpipe or like
A widowed ostrich pining alone with bronchitis of the throat!
Hast thou a message for the world to know?
Tell me, Arthur Kickahajama, missionary!
If so,
Tell us to know, gentle harbinger of harbour-defences,
Tell us——