to 
 
 i 
 
Dig|tized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2011 with funding from 
 The Library of Congress 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/americanwarbookmOOIong 
 
: ^ 
 
 sXtx 
 
 mertom 
 Mar poob 
 
 MY LUSITANIA MEMORIAL) 
 
 BY 
 
 SOL. L. LONG 
 w 
 (four generations an American) 
 
 COPYRIGHT 1915, BY SOL. L. LONG 
 
 ^ 
 
 J 
 

FOREWORD. 
 
 The war in Europe is but another phase of the history- 
 old — world-old — contest as to which is to be paramount 
 — the creator or the creature — man, or the work of his 
 hands — the individual or the State. 
 
 Regardless of all that may be said — even their own 
 explanation — the Allies, in essence, stand for the principle 
 that ALL, from the least to the greatest, have brought 
 about that which is called "civilization" and that the de- 
 velopment of the same depends upon ALL. 
 
 The Prussian ideal, which opposes that of the Allies, 
 is one which rests upon the saying of Pilat-e: "What I have 
 written I have written," and if change be made it must only 
 be upon the word, whim, caprice, of one man. 
 
 The chief analogy we have to the Prussian ideal, in 
 this country, is the blind worship of "precedent" in legal 
 circles. 
 
 Blind worship — any worship — of "precedent" has its 
 roots in the Baltic bogs; from whence came the Prussian to 
 excite the world's pity and tolerance by reason of his stu- 
 pidity and through such excitation 'vin to "Pity's Eminence" 
 — -an eminence which is of grace — not merit nor desert. 
 
 It is one of the strange and unexplainable matters of 
 history that the Prussian has won to any eminence what- 
 ever; save and except along menial lines. 
 
 His stolidness — his stupidity — his Chauvanistic buf- 
 foonery — -his egoism — his utter lack of an appreciation of 
 relative values, mental or material, should have precluded 
 him from any sort of recognition, along any line of human 
 action or endeavor, by any outside his own class. 
 
 Perhaps the explanation of the recognition he has 
 obtained lies in that, in the reaction from the 1 6th century, 
 paganized, theology, the crass materialism of the Prussian 
 offered (seemingly) a soft place to light. 
 
 Prussian ideals are as dangerous to democracy as fire 
 is to a powder mill. 
 
 Take our own country, and wherever Prussian ideals 
 have been at all, or, approximately, in the ascendency, the 
 community has died ethically; the municipality has been 
 corrupted commercially and the State has been debauched 
 politically. 
 
 Ethnologically no one knows where the Prussian be- 
 longs. Ethically he is just as much of a mystery. That he 
 is neither pure Teuton, nor pure Slav is evident. The 
 
 —1— 
 
theory that he has a Mongolian strain in him would be 
 acceptable to anyone who has a low regard for Mongolians. 
 Having a high regard for the Mongols 1 cannot accept this 
 theory. My opinion is that the Prussian is siu generis. In 
 view of his peculiar ideals and mental trend I cannot, as to 
 him, accept the theological or the Darwinian theory. 
 
 1 will be accused of insulting some of my fellow citi- 
 zens and be told of the "admirable thrift" of those same 
 citizens. To such accusers I will say that, as an offset to 
 "admirable thrift" 1 place the "delectable" Prussian brew- 
 ery system of our country; the "desirable and frugal" Prus- 
 sianized distilleries; which dominate and corrupt the politics 
 of all our northern states and the "admirable" saloon system 
 that curses our municipalities, north and south. 
 
 For every penny we have gained by reason of "Prus- 
 sian thrift" we have paid out ONE DOLLAR, in cash, and 
 lost millions of manhood and womanhood; by reason of 
 the Prussian ideal, which is the bulwark of the liquor and 
 saloon interests of this country. 
 
 Look over a list of names of persons attending a liquor 
 
 dealers' convention go down the street of your own town 
 
 and read the names on the saloon windows and then tell 
 me I am biased or prejudiced — if you have the nerve to 
 do so. 
 
 The Prussianized breweries and saloons of this country 
 would be sufficient to call for a more severe indictment of 
 the Prussian ideal than language can convey; but, person- 
 ally, 1 must add to it murdered Belgium and the dastardly 
 assassination of two of my best friends, Elbert and Alice 
 Hubbard, who went down on the ill fated Lusitania. 
 
 After all, Providence seems to have a confirmed habit 
 of looking after the affairs of men and of taking a hand 
 when their strength and wisdom fails. When this present 
 war is over and Prussia and her ideals are relegated to 
 the a justly deserved oblivion, Prussians will have plenty of 
 time to set down and revise and add copious footnotes to 
 
 their self esteem and it is to be hoped that the revised 
 
 edition of "Prussian Gall and Effrontery" will be read on 
 this side of the water, as well as learned by rote on the 
 other side. 
 
 SOL L. LONG. 
 
 2 I 20 Troost Avenue, ^25 
 
 Kansas City, Mo. M 
 
 July 17, 1915. 
 
 2 
 
 ©CI.A408827 
 
 •6 S9S5 
 
N. B. 1 have dated and placed the matter herein in 
 
 the order of its production. I have placed them thus be- 
 cause I wanted to and for the further reason that any 
 reader, who has so much as been vaccinated with Prus- 
 sianism, may read them and not get brain congestion. One 
 on whom Prussian vaccination has taken would not under- 
 stand any sort of explanation therefore none is given for 
 
 this class of insects. 
 
 GOIN' TO A CLEANIN'. 
 
 She is goin' to a cleanin' and she needs it, for she's dirty. 
 
 She is goin' to a cleanin' that swelled-up "Fadderland." 
 
 She's been a-biddin' for it, for years nigh onto thirty, 
 And she's surely goin' to it, to the music of the band! 
 
 She's goin' to a cleanin', and the Frank, and Slav, and 
 
 Briton. 
 Will give her all her "needin's" — they have long been 
 
 overdue. 
 She'll wish she had remained at home, attending to her 
 
 knittin', 
 Her weiniewurst and saurkraut, her cheese and "special 
 
 brew." 
 
 She is goin' to a cleanin', as another vindication 
 Of the old, but truthful, saying: "Pride goes before a fall," 
 And when the wash is on the line the entire German nation 
 Will have received a treatment for a large, ingrowing gall. 
 
 She is goin' to a cleanin', with her stolid, sulled, effrontery, 
 
 She is goin' to a cleanin', with her chauvanistic boasts; 
 
 And there'll soon be rambling round, in that super-heated 
 country, 
 
 Some "hock der Kaiser" immigrants some bran new Ger- 
 man ghosts. 
 
 Alton, 111., Aug. 6-14. 
 (Midnight.) 
 
 WAR NEWS. 
 
 "I am for war!" said the Austrian king, 
 
 And the Servian monarch said: "Just the thing!" 
 
 Said William, the bluffer: "I'm on der ving, 
 
 To smash dose Parley Voos. 
 
 Been vaitin' for dis, mein happy chance, 
 
 To gallop mein army ridt into France, 
 
Undt make dose sons of frog eaters dance, 
 'Till dey vear oudt all deir shoes." 
 
 Then the Austrian king got into the game, 
 
 And the Servian monarch did the same, 
 
 And he with the Hohenzollern name 
 
 Said to the Baggage-man: 
 
 "Voke up here, Hans, undt lissen to me; . 
 
 Sheck dose suidt cases to gay Paree; 
 
 For 1 goes meinself to dose town, you see, 
 
 To hung on der French der can 
 
 The Austrian king got over the line 
 
 And the Servian monarch said: "You are mine!' 
 
 But Bill kept hiking down the Rhine, 
 
 On his way to gay Paree 
 
 But if ever he reaches his coveted goal, 
 It will be as a disembodied soul, 
 And "steen" hours after the last bells toll 
 Sundown in Eternity. 
 
 Alton, 111., Aug. 6-14. 
 (Midnight.) 
 
 THE BELGIANS ARE STARVING— WHY? 
 
 (After reading a placard bearing the legend: "The 
 Belgians Are Starving.") 
 It is not the coin of a wasteling's wage; 
 Nor the sheaf of a slothful hand: 
 It is not a misspent youth's old age, 
 Nor the spite of a sullen land. 
 Their land has given no miser dole 
 And kind has been their sky; 
 Yet, the bells of famine toll and toll, 
 For the starving Belgians — why? 
 
 It is not because they had won the smiles 
 
 Of the harlot of gain and greed; 
 
 For she still tents, down the east-spun miles, 
 
 With the pack of the were-wolf breed. 
 
 As the honest live they have lived their lives; 
 
 That they might, like the honest, die; 
 
 But they, and their children, and their wives, 
 
 And their old, are starving — why? 
 
 -4— 
 
It is not that their backs are 'gainst the sea; 
 Nor that their defense, unplanned, 
 Will give them place in history 
 
 As the largest little land! 
 
 A parchment hedge is a sorry shield 
 With an alien, whose national lie 
 Is a pride of home and a boast afield — 
 And the Belgians are starving why? 
 
 Buffalo, N. Y., to Boston Mass. 
 Nov. 18, '14. 
 
 THE CRISIS CALL. 
 
 (On reading a placard bearing the legend: "Your King 
 
 and Country Calls You.") 
 Your King and Country call you; once again must hearts 
 
 of oak 
 Bulwark the van of progress, as they've bulwarked in the 
 
 past; 
 
 Lest our body of ideals on the vandal's wheel be broke 
 
 Lest our fair sky of achievement be a century overcast. 
 
 Your King and Country call you; for the stolid tribes are up 
 There's a cry of: "Heart of England!" in the forests of 
 
 the north. 
 The gray wolf pack is loping aye, the were-wolves wait 
 
 to sup 
 On civilization's carcass; should the Lion be driven forth. 
 
 Your King and Country call you; whatsoever is of worth 
 In the fabric of this living; every good and wholesome 
 
 thing; 
 Every mile post which attests the British march around 
 
 the Earth; 
 In this crisis of the ages is your Country and your King. 
 
 On Grand Trunk Ry. between 
 Montreal and 1 oronto, Can. 
 Tuesday, Nov. 24th, 1914. 
 Car Mauston. 
 
REACHING FOR HIS GOAT. 
 
 Our vaunted civilization has shown itself to be 
 A thin cloak for the jungle-man— which same is you and me. 
 We get our ideas second hand; our ethics come by rote 
 And, William Hohenzollern, we're reaching for your goat. 
 
 We've all been on peace dress parade, but have, in this 
 
 good year, . 
 
 Cold storaged our hypocrisy; tore off our thin veneer, 
 And mobilized our armies; put our battleships afloat — 
 And, William Hohenzollern, we're reaching for your goat. 
 
 With half baked schemes for stopping war we've filled the 
 magazines, , 
 
 And mouthed of; "Human Brotherhood —whatever that 
 phrase means. 
 
 But all has been for increase of the guinea, or the groat— 
 
 And, William Hohenzollern, we're reaching for your goat. 
 
 This breeding and maturing cannon food, we find to be 
 
 As near divine as doing like for mine or factory— 
 
 The hum of peace is kin to growls from out the war dog s 
 
 throat 
 
 And, William Hohenzollern, we're reaching for your goat. 
 
 Not only reaching for it, but we'll get it, for 'tis in 
 The scheme of life that blood must pay the penalty for sin. 
 If Darwin errs not Prussians descended through the stoat 
 And, William Hohenzollern, we're reaching for your goat. 
 
 Kansas City, Mo. 
 January 28, 1915. 
 
 LUSITANIA. 
 
 Up from the depths, on the Last Great Day, 
 Will come, with a challenge, a vast array; 
 
 A nation must answer what will it say 
 
 Lusitania? 
 
 More than a thousand, sea raped of life 
 
 By the jackal ideal that kindled the strife 
 
 Innocent babe, and mother, and wife, 
 Lusitania ! 
 
 Veneered in their huckster's ideal and till; 
 But their ruthlessness and their lust to kill 
 Proclaim them the Goth and the Vandal still, 
 Lusitania ! 
 
 —6— 
 
That their national soul is the soul of a lout, 
 Whose head is as weak as his sinews are stout, 
 Is proven by lives that the waves washed out, 
 Lusitania ! 
 
 When they of their stupid effrontery are shorn; 
 When their pride filched vestments are from them 
 E'en Charity, weeping, will give them scorn, 
 Lusitania ! 
 
 Henceforth and for aye, through Eternity, 
 When a trade mark is wanted for "perfidy" 
 And her brood, the word will be, "Germany." 
 Lusitania ! 
 
 Kansas City, Mo. 
 May 13, 1915. 
 
 THE CRY OF THE SOULLESS. 
 
 "Quantity! Quantity! Quantity!" this the incessant cry; 
 
 From the market place and the altar stair; 
 From the mob that eddies by. 
 
 "Quantity! Quantity! Quantity!" at history a jeer; 
 
 The sesame of the stupid tribes, 
 Whose gods are Fraud and Fear. 
 
 Quantity! Quantity! Quantity!" — and men have heard the 
 
 same 
 Wild cry, from the nether pits of hell, 
 Since Satan had a name. 
 
 The Shibboleth of the vulture; the urge of the jackals skulk; 
 The fiat law of the unkempt brains 
 Which measure worth by bulk. 
 
 "Quantity! Quantity! Quantity" massive of tool and toy; 
 
 Of pillar; of house; of fashionings; 
 
 Of instinct; of things which cloy. 
 
 Culture's beggars on horseback; crass to remote degree; 
 
 Crude, with the jungle's crudeness 
 
 And an ooze bred density. 
 
 "Quantity" of science, and "quantity" of skill; 
 The midnight lamp and the daylight sweat 
 For greater power to kill! 
 
 Crying for harder sinews not for the old world's good, 
 
 But that they may reap and rape, with the scythe 
 Of a stronger cannon food! 
 
 —7— 
 
"Efficiency of endeavor!" — the sky concealing rut 
 
 In which the grandsons of the swamps 
 
 Delight to parade and strut; 
 
 And nurse bastard ideals, as the bottle is nursed by the sot. 
 
 And as the Alieut to a daughter's bed, 
 
 So they to the couch of thought. 
 
 "Quantity! Quantity! Quantity!" — despite the eternal 
 
 scheme 
 The guttral tongue keeps mouthing forth 
 Its Alexandrian dream! 
 
 "Quantity" of empire — stern rule of the vague abstract; 
 The "Me undt Gott," in theory; 
 The "Me undt naught else" in fact. 
 
 Kansas City, Mo. 
 June 1 6th. 1915. 
 
 THE SPAWN OF THE SWAMPS. 
 
 Reason enough, when the earth was young, for the swamp 
 
 and its ooze born brood; 
 When the acts of men from the outside sprung and their 
 
 thought was crass and crude; 
 But the reason fails with the inside urge and the wider and 
 
 widening 3ky, 
 And the swamp must vanish; its ooze-born scourge must, 
 
 as it passes, die. 
 
 The sensual spawn of the Baltic bogs, 
 
 Whose ethnological name 
 Is shrouded as much in mystery as the swamps from whence 
 
 they came; 
 Have cried, in Chauvanistic glee, their slogan of the fen; 
 
 Their thrice presumptious blasphemy 
 
 That they should rank as men. 
 
 Without the outer eye of the brute 
 
 Or the inner eye of men; 
 With everything above the ooze beyond their stolid ken; 
 Sans even the shadow of an ideal, from mists miasmal 
 wrung; 
 
 With urge of life as dense and coarse 
 
 As the croak of their gutteral tongue. 
 
 They have fed their greed, with assassin hands, 
 In forums where law was lame; 
 
For e'en the clink of a copper coin they have sown and 
 
 reaped with Shame 
 And nursed their otter's morals in the lap of a Lascar brain; 
 
 And measured life, in a maudlin way, 
 
 By physical pleasure and pain. 
 
 The world has borne with them and their lack. 
 Much as the Cave-man bore, 
 In his half-blood penitential way, with the vermin that vexed 
 
 him sore. 
 And the Cave-man died, ere he had learned that which the 
 stars attest, 
 
 That the reason for vermin life must die 
 At the birth of a reason for rest. 
 
 Reason enough, when the earth was young, for the swamp 
 
 and its ooze born brood; 
 When the acts of men from the outside sprung and their 
 
 thought was crass and crude; 
 But the reason fails with the inside urge and the wider and 
 
 widening sky. 
 And the swamp must vanish; its ooze-born scourge must, 
 
 as it passes, die. 
 
 Big Four Train, 
 
 St. Louis, Mo., to Indianapolis, Ind. 
 
 June 16, 1915. 
 
 LABOR LOST. 
 
 Teach them honor? the suggestion is a staring idocy; 
 
 When applied to any people who are sans capacity 
 And impervious to instruction and, in stolid density, 
 Willing to wear chains and shackels — if some Kaiser so 
 decree. 
 
 Teach them tenderness and pity? — first convince us that 
 you can 
 
 Teach the gray wolf, mad with hunger, to walk upright 
 like a man; 
 
 Recognizing right and reason; bowing to the humane plan 
 
 Which holds greed impelled marauding underneath a flex- 
 less ban. 
 
 Teach what strong men know by instinct? — just as well 
 might you essay, 
 
 —9— 
 
By intent, to broaden out the narrowed foreheads of 
 
 Cathay ! 
 Or attempt a debt to Satan by abandoned slag dumps pay; 
 Or, with printed page and precept, lure the tiger from his 
 
 prey. 
 
 Teach them perfidy so shameless that 'twould lift the dastard 
 
 souls. 
 For this crime sent to Perdition, to a place on Heaven's 
 
 rolls? 
 This were bringing caste to India; this to Newcastle were 
 
 coals; 
 Fish fin lustre to the diamond; evening shadows unto moles. 
 
 Kansas City, Mo. 
 June 26th, 1915. 
 
 STRAFEOPHOBIA. 
 
 (The school children of Germany are being taught to 
 say: "Gott strafe England!" Press Item.) 
 
 "Gott strafe England!" Why just England? Why not go 
 
 down the line 
 And "strafe" every tribe and nation save the stupid o'er 
 
 the Rhine? 
 And their megalomaniac master; drunken with the thought 
 
 that he 
 Owns the earth and has as vassal earth's Creator, Deity! 
 
 "Gott strafe" the perfume of flowers; aye, "Gott strafe" 
 the zephyr's breath; 
 
 "Gott strafe" all that men have fashioned, save the instru- 
 ments of death 
 
 And the things that give these greater power, more 
 effectiveness. 
 
 In their holocaust of murder, gendering a world-distress. 
 
 "Gott strafe" every code of honor which the ages have 
 
 evolved! 
 "Gott strafe" every present problem which cannot by arms 
 
 be solved! 
 "Gott strafe" all the Covenant nations which think "scraps 
 
 of paper" count 
 
 "Jah, Gott strafe der ten commandments undt der Sermon 
 
 on der Mount!" 
 
 —10— 
 
"Gott strafe" mothers, young or aged, mothers evil, mothers 
 
 good, 
 Who dare think conceiving, bearing, nursing, nurturing, 
 
 cannon-food 
 Is not woman's highest privilege "Gott strafe" all fathers 
 
 who 
 Will not furnish flesh of sons to make a "Kaiser Wilhelm 
 
 Stew." 
 
 "Gott strafe" all the ages progress, by all other nations 
 
 prized ! 
 "Gott strafe" every land and people who will not be 
 
 Prussianized ! 
 "Gott strafe" Mercy "Gott strafe" Pity; 'till they fester 
 
 sore and rot 
 
 "Undt uf Gott dondt do our biddings, den may Gott strafe 
 
 Gott." 
 Field's, Kansas City, Mo. 
 July 9th, 1915. 
 
 EVEN SATAN- 
 
 The Germ-Hun proffered a stately ship; 
 But his Satanic Majesty curled his lip. 
 
 "1 give the men a chance," he said 
 
 And the Germ-Hun never dropped his head 
 For he did not understand! 
 
 "Vy dond't you dake it?" the Germ-Hun inquired, 
 And the Devil countered, visibly fired: 
 "1 give the women a chance, do you?" 
 And the Germ-Hun, stupidly, closer drew, 
 For he did not understand! 
 
 "It's der Lusitania," the Germ-Hun said; 
 
 But the Devil, by this time, was seeing red 
 
 "I give the babies Oh, you compel 
 
 The establishment of a rival hell!" 
 
 And the Germ-Hun understood! 
 Kansas City, Mo. 
 July 11, 1915. 
 
 THE ABDICATION OF SATAN. 
 
 "My Lords, and Gentlemen, you are convened 
 On matter weighty. Here to look upon 
 The most collossal failure of all time. 
 And, in familiar words but new coined phrase, 
 Be told what made that failure absolute. 
 
 -11- 
 
"1 pray you be not swift to entertain 
 That half-wit brother of Despair and Doubt 
 By questioning: 'Is it I?' or yet lend wings 
 Unto Conjecture, sexless child of Fear, 
 By wondering: 'Is it he or he or he?' 
 
 "Be patient with me as I now review 
 
 The past; to of the present make you ware.". 
 
 "Well have you served me, and I render thanks 
 For all that service, and 'tis in my heart 
 To spare you by deceiving; but some dim. 
 Faint stain of honor still is on my soul; 
 This same has ever kept me back from that 
 Which, had I followed and o'erta'en, would have 
 Spared me the sorrow of this present hour." 
 
 "My Lords, you each were with me at that hour 
 When, balked of my ambition to be first 
 Among the good, I chose to be Premier 
 Of evil. Chose that precarious greatness which 
 Rests on applause of others, or their fear." 
 
 "My Lords, you followed me; not fate compelled 
 
 Nor willy-nilly led. You had your chance 
 
 To follow or remain. You chose to join 
 
 Your fortunes unto mine, for which free act 
 
 You have my gratitude. Let it be known 
 
 That, though I strove for evil's eminence, 
 
 I did my striving as a gentleman; 
 
 And that the sole mark of a gentleman 
 
 Is recognition of a benefit; 
 
 Real or intangible it matters not." 
 
 "My Gentlemen; from out all walks of life, 
 
 Terrestial, you have come and if you have 
 
 Regrets, the justice which remains in you 
 
 (As lurks the stains of honor on my soul) 
 
 Will give me quittance; as to unfair play. 
 
 You likewise had your chance. 'Twas you who chose 
 
 Not I, and you will testify I ne'er 
 
 Was guilty of campaigning underseas!" 
 
 "My Lords, and Gentlemen, look on your leige, 
 And let me have one last salute from you 
 Before I lay aside my iron crown 
 To wander hence — before my name becomes 
 
 —12— 
 
A synonym for failure; which proves that 
 Contact with Honor; e'en some primer tale 
 Of Honor; renders him who suffers it 
 Incapable of reaching premiership 
 In ruthless evil and iniquity. 
 
 "I might have scaped this hour had I sojourned 
 
 More in the Baltic bogs — not given o'er 
 
 Their surveillance to a lieutenant; who 
 
 Could not see menace to his Master's realm 
 
 In exaltation of stupidity. 
 
 A sad lieutenant; one who failed to sense 
 
 That speech of fiber is indicative! 
 
 And stolidness, if touched by Ego's wand, 
 
 That which would speed to such excess as would 
 
 Make me half human — cause my centuries 
 
 Of despite to seem blessings, and thereby 
 Tear Fear's old cloaking from my dreaded name; 
 Give me compassion; show me less the Fiend 
 Than some who, down among the Baltic bogs, 
 Through some mischance of nature, filched the form 
 Of man; but failed to loot the treasury 
 Of attributes. And therefore nature filled 
 The vacuum with a crass stupidity 
 And power of fatuity beyond 
 The marking of degrees. This led them to 
 Exalt that abstract thing, the State, above 
 The State's creator, and by doing this 
 Make Hell less to be feared — preferable." 
 
 "Whereas upon abstract abstraction rests 
 
 The Prussian ideal, which, logically, 
 
 Must murder nations, as in Belgium's case; 
 
 (Despite a solemn pledge of guardianship) 
 
 Hide schooled assassins in the sea and send 
 
 Men, women, children, to their death without 
 
 Such chance as ever I accorded them; 
 
 It follows I have been, and am in fact, 
 
 A tyro in iniquity. Therefore 
 
 My crown is bootless burden on my brow." 
 
 "Let it be said of me, that never have 
 
 I levied tribute on a helpless foe 
 
 Who fought but in defense. Had one of you, 
 
 Or all, brought hither man or woman shade, 
 
 Without plain profert of chance to escape, 
 
 Or brought a soul of mother, or of babe, 
 
 (E'en though you plead a thousand chances given) 
 
 I should have burned you into nothingness!" 
 
 --13— 
 
"Yet, chanceless, Prussia's schooled assassins tear 
 
 Men, women, children, ruthlessly from life I 
 
 And while they do it shame humanity 
 
 By claiming kinship and, thereby, that they 
 
 Remission and forgiveness may obtain I 
 
 If so then Hell may yet redeem herself 
 
 And rank a sister State to Paradise — 
 
 Hell's dread and desperate denizens yet hear 
 
 The psalms of Heaven, from inside its walls!" 
 
 "My Lords, and Gentlemen, I take my crown 
 
 And cast it on the slag; for that I am 
 
 No longer paramount in fiendishnessl 
 
 My trident scepter after it I throw 
 
 And as they ring a metal's sharp farewell 
 
 Unto their Master, 1 disown them both 
 
 And of Hell abdicate sovereignity!" 
 
 "Each for himself! Hell is disrupted! I 
 An exile and the scepter passes to 
 The Prussian drunken with stupidity!" 
 
 Kansas City, Mo. 
 July 13, 1915. 
 
 THERE'S A REASON. 
 
 Had they a brain proportionate to their large and lucious 
 gall; 
 
 There would be some sense to their jester's cry of: "Ger- 
 many Over All." 
 
 Had they their fatuity catalogued or even card indexed 
 
 There would be less reason for the world to be so sore 
 perplexed. 
 
 Had they less the soul of the Jungle-man and the dispo- 
 sition of hogs; 
 
 There would be some safety in letting them dwell outside 
 the Baltic bogs. 
 
 If they were less a culture tube for marauding germ of 
 the Hun; 
 
 There would be less call for the rest of the world to 
 carry a gatling gun! 
 
 But had they never have been at all the world would never 
 have known 
 
 —14- 
 
Of the extreme end of the limit which lies, far out, in the 
 
 twilight zone 
 Of super-abundant cussedness; and murder for greed; and 
 
 rapine 
 Of the wolfish sort; which has its rise in a genius for being 
 mean. 
 
 Kansas City, Mo. 
 July 16, 1915. 
 
 HANDS ACROSS THE SEA. 
 
 There is no cant, no foolishness, in "Hands Across the Sea;" 
 Proven by an unsentryed, fortless, far-flung boundary 
 
 Twixt Britain's daughter's domain and our own democracy 
 
 Our State; which were not possible had Britain failed to be. 
 
 The "Rights of Man" for which we stand; for which we 
 
 sweat and toil; 
 Where'er their fronds may rise their roots are deep in 
 
 British soil. 
 
 Bearing the sword of Liberty we're mindful of its foil 
 
 Behind the urge accomplished lies the first anointing oil. 
 
 Hence, there is more than empty phrase in, "Hands Across 
 
 the Sea." 
 
 It rests on law immutable law of affinity. 
 
 And, until Nature's order change, law of heredity, 
 Transmitting an Ideal, will keep our "Hands Across the 
 
 Sea." 
 
 Kansas City, Mo. 
 July 17, 1915. 
 
 —15— 
 
■SELSL"*** 
 
 0i5 93 rsT'( 
 
Conservation Resources 
 Lig-Free© Type I 
 Pb 8.5, Buffered 
 
UBRWlS,aSlW 
 
 l»»-^990