The End of the Road

Gas-masks have been ordered for the whole of Britain. In Moscow the whole population will begin gas-mask drill. Precautions to meet an air or gas attack are being urged by certain public bodies in Melbourne.

In olden days we faced the foe
With forthright weapons, man to man—
A club, a spear; a thrust, a blow—
Oh, crude, uncouth barbarian!
Yet he who triumphed, he who fell,
Triumphed or fell in Honor’s name,
Leaving a straight, clean tale to tell
That held no hint of sullying shame.
Ah, what a change to this from then!
Peace on earth, goodwill to men.

Slowly we grew and slowly lost
Honor’s clear sheen of that far day.
And couched lance reddened, proud plume tossed
Where mail-clad knights rode out to slay
The naked hind, the unclad knave
And bowmen massed for knights to kill
That each might find a soldier’s grave,
And soldiers sang of “Honor” still.
For soldiers fought with soldiers then.
Peace on earth, goodwill to men.

So wisdom grew; the world progressed
And mighty wonders now befell—
Wonders the world had never guessed—
The rifle and the sundering shell.
But men still sought their martial fame,
And followed still a fading star,
Nor deemed it any soldier’s shame
To slay his fellow from afar.
Yet Mars claimed “Honor” even then.
Peace on earth, goodwill to men.

Now women choke and children die
Where filthy murder steals their breath.
And fouler murderers from the sky
Rain on the innocent foul death.
The deadlier fume, the safer mask;
So, turn about, have men devised,
While chemists bend above their task
And thank their God we’re civilised.
So, naught remains, save to ask “When?”
God speed ye, merry gentlemen.