for having vainly waited so long in deference to political
complications, and that shame was intolerably increasing ... It
is undiscerning not to see that at a critical moment of extreme
tension they [the German Professors] allowed their passion to get
the better of them."

_The POET LAUREATE, in "The Times," October 27th, 1920_.

[The author of the following lines fears that he has failed to
do full justice to the metrical purity of the Master's
craftsmanship.]

Such people as lacked the leisure to peruse
My scripture, one-and-a-quarter columns long
In _The Times_, may like me, as having the gift of song,
To prosodise succinctly my private views.

Did I cry Shame! in November, 1918,
On those who never cried Shame! on the lords of hell?
Rather the shame is mine who delayed to clean
My soul of a wrong that grew intolerable.
What if our German colleagues, our brothers-in-lore,
Preached and approved for years the vilest of deeds?
Yet is there every excuse when the hot blood speeds;
We too were vexed and wanted our fellows' gore,
Saying rude things in a moment of extreme tension
Which in our calmer hours we should never mention.

Dons in their academic ignorance blind,
With passions like to our own as pea to pea,