Dem Briten, dem Russen, dem Asiaten!
Deutschland hat nie einen Freund verraten!
(Translation.)
Ma pauvre France, when wilt thou see
That all thy allies are cheating thee?
What, though if thou with him wouldst go
Who now overwhelms thee--an honest foe!
On German faith thou couldst reckon sure;
With us, thou couldst rule the world secure,
The Briton, the Russian, the Asian, bend.
Germany has never betrayed a friend!
[Illustration: decoration]
ANSWERING THE "CHANT OF HATE."
By BEATRICE M. BARRY.
French and Russian, they matter not,
For England only your wrath is hot;
But little Belgium is so small
You never mentioned her at all--
Or did her graveyards, yawning deep,
Whisper that silence was discreet?
For Belgium is waste! Ay, Belgium is waste!
She welters in the blood of her sons,
And the ruins that fill the little place
Speak of the vengeance of the Huns.
"Come, let us stand at the Judgment place,"
German and Belgian, face to face.
What can you say? What can you do?
What will history say of you?
For even the Hun can only say
That little Belgium lay in his way.
Is there no reckoning you must pay?
What of the Justice of that "Day"?
Belgium one voice--Belgium one cry
Shrieking her wrongs, inflicted by
_GERMANY!_
In her ruined homesteads, her trampled fields,
You have taken your toll, you have set your seal;
Her women are homeless, her men are dead,
Her children pitifully cry for bread;
Perchance they will drink with you--"To the Day!"
Let each man construe it as he may.
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