Classic Poem

We make no boast of Waterloo;
Its name excites no pride in us;
We have no hatred of the French,
No scorn of Yankee or of Russ.
The GLORY that our fathers gain'd
In bloody warfare years agone,
And which they talk of o'er their cups,
Gives us no joy to think upon.

In truth we rather love the French,
And think our fathers did them wrong;
And sometimes blush when in the streets,
Quite out of date, an ancient song —
Ghost of a prejudice — comes back,
And tells us how, in days gone out,
The best of Englishmen was he
Who put a dozen French to rout.

We have no foolish thoughts like these,
Of France, or any other land;
And jealousies so poor and mean,
We're somewhat slow to understand.
We'd rather with our friends, the French,
Encourage kindliness of thought,
Than gain a score of Waterloos,
Or any battle ever fought.

And in this year of " forty-six,"
We rising men, in life's young prime,
Are men who think the French have done
The world good service in their time;
And for their sakes, and for our own,
And Freedom's sake o'er all the earth,
We'd rather let old feuds expire,
And cling to something better worth.

If thought of battles gain'd by us
Disturb or gall them, let it rest;
Napoleon was a man of men,
But neither wickedest nor best;
Neither a demon nor a god;
And if they will adore a king,
The honest man who rules them now
Deserves a little worshipping.

To be at strife, however just,
Has no attraction to our mind;
And as for nations fond of war,
We think them pests of humankind.
Still — if there must be rivalry
Betwixt us and the French; — why then
Let earth look on us, while we show
Which of the two are better men.

We'll try the rivalry of Arts,
Of Science, Learning, Freedom, Fame —
We'll try who first shall light the world
With Charity's divinest flame —
Who best shall elevate the poor,
And teach the wealthy to be true:
We want no rivalry of arms,
We want no boasts of Waterloo.