Classic Poem

‘God punish England,’ These words of salutation
Echo to-day through Germany's domain,
In humble village home, in mansion stately:
On crowded city street, on country lane;
Wherever, two men meet or crowds assemble,
Only this word of greeting or farewell,
Hissed through the teeth of child and youth and aged,
This ‘Hassegesang’ refrain, this bitter knell—
‘Oh, may God punish England.’
‘Yes, may God punish her.’

‘God punish England.’ Yes, if she is traitor,
Breaking her bond, when so to do means gain,
Holding her treaties as mere ‘scraps of paper,’
Willing that truth and honour shall lie slain.
If she has made a shambles of a nearby garden,
Driving with hate her Juggernaut of Might,
Crushing a hero-land by greater numbers,
Turning the joy of day to sorrow's night—
Then ‘May God punish England.’
‘Yes, may God punish her.’

‘God punish England.’ Yes, if she is vandal,
Wanton of church and monument and home;
If, for a target, using cherished steeple,
Stately cathedral wall, and hallowed dome;
If Halls of Art and Colleges of Learning
Alike receive her fierce destroying rage;
If she forgets the claims of beauty, skill, and wisdom,
And ravages the treasures of an age—
Then ‘May God punish England.’
‘Yes, may God punish her.’

‘God punish England.’ Yes, if she is vampire,
Craving for blood as misers crave for gain,
If she regards the aged one as fitting victim,
And by her ruthless hand a babe lies slain:
If she forgets the sanctity of childhood,
Or deadens heart to sight of helpless need,
If womanhood no longer spells protection,
If naught remains to her but hate and greed—
Then ‘May God punish England.’
‘Yes, may God punish her.’
. . . . . . . . . .
These are the bitter words of salutation
Hissed through the teeth of Britain's foes to-day:
But God on high is watching, knowing, waiting.
‘Vengeance is mine,’ said God, ‘I will repay.’
Not by a nation's prayers, but by her actions.
Thus shall the Vengeance or Reward be made.
Matters it not who prays ‘God punish England.’
England, with hands unstained, is unafraid.

For what avails the foeman's words of passion,
If Britain's sons unite her name to bless,
If fiercest curse but calls forth more affection,
And angry blow is followed by caress?
Why fret that men should pray ‘God punish England’
When those who know her best their love-songs bring,
And with one voice her sons and daughters answer,
‘God save our Empire and God bless our King’?