The Bee's Bayonet (a Little Honey and a Little Sting)

America! Our home, our native land!
The joy of it—the rapture! when we say—
We who are freemen and can understand—
This is our heritage—the U. S. A.!
Hewn from the virgin forests by our sires,
And launched by giants capable and true,
Our Ship of State was manned, when Freedom's fires
Were beacon lights, by sturdy, godly crew,—
And so hath kept, steered by the Guiding Star
Of Faith, her steadfast course, thru shoal or blast,
Aloof from sirens luring from afar,
With Stars and Stripes still waving at the mast.
Here in our Land, where Plenty hath its store,
Where fertile fields teem with abundant grain,
Hunger ne'er casts its shadow on the door,
And Famine hath no lodge on hill or plain.
In truth doth Luxury with Plenty vie
To fill our laps with all the luscious things
That Nature doth provide—loath to deny
The satisfaction that such bounty brings.
To us was Freedom's heritage bequeathed
To have and hold while life and pride remain:
And so our sword must ever be unsheathed
To guard this priceless boon from hurt or stain—
So that the war-worn hosts in Europe's maze,
Who fight against the Despot's ruthless spear,
May see the light of Liberty ablaze,
Diffusing matchless splendor over here;
And, friendly beacon, be to them a sign
And Bow of Promise, in their dismal sky,
The Light of Hope eternally to shine
In God's resplendent galaxy on High.
But grim starvation, at the board, presides
Across the seas, where once the farmsteads poured
Autumnal wealth—and Desolation rides
Rough shod along where tramped the Prussian horde.
No life remains: the fields are stark and sere;
The forests, leaf and branch and root, are fled;
The flowers lie trampled on the soldier's bier:
Destroyed are e'en the shelters of the dead.
The gardens that held plenty in their wombs
Are stripped and barren as the sands of Dearth,
And now, instead, keep vigil o'er the tombs
Of demigods, redeemers of the Earth.
The vineyards where the fragrant fruitage hung
To cheer the peaceful peasant in his toil
Are desolate where Death his shroud has flung
Upon the breadth of France's sacred soil.
Wrecked are the homesteads: buzzard broods abound
Where shell-holes gape, and heaps of carnage rise
Above the naked bosom of the ground,
Mutely denying guilt, in sacrifice.
Still with the jackal at her wounds doth France
Fight on unmindful of her pains, and lo!
We hear her call and, seizing shield and lance,
Crusader-like, to her assistance go.
Her cause is just: we make her Cause our own!
For Liberty doth in the balance swing,
And we must guard her, if we fight alone
To rid the world of this malignant Thing
That, in the guise of Kultur, hides its hoofs
And horns, its tail and spear and hideous face,
And, as a pious priest, on Moslem roofs,
Extols itself, usurping Allah's place.
What blasphemy! Obsessed to germinate
Its propaganda, its infernal cult;
Condoning Cain's offense, instilling hate,
It strikes with poison, dirk and catapult
Against the precepts of the Prince of Peace;
Against the Conscience of the Universe.
But hatred, lust and war will never cease
Until God's Sword destroys this monstrous curse.
Audaciously the Priests of Kultur strive
To spread their doctrine, but the graven god
Against the Living Christ cannot survive,
And in His time will scourged be with His rod.
And so our Ship of State to battle hastes,
All sails a-drawing, sheets secure and taut,
Manned by a stalwart crew, stripped to the waists,
Inspired by battles that our fathers fought.
In port at last whence Lafayette once sailed
To aid our fight that made Britannia halt,
They take their stand where Frenchmen never failed
To hold the Verdun forts against assault.
A mighty effort this! To send our force
Three thousand miles, thru shark-infested sea,
Beneath dark skies where vultures lay their course,
To face the foe and ransom Liberty,
Thru sacrificial offering of our sons;
To arm and clothe five million men, and then
Build, to convey and feed them, countless tons
Of mighty vessels—transports, merchantmen;
To furnish, in addition, vast supplies
To allied Powers whose Cause we have embraced,
To hearten them—to strengthen friendly ties
And stay the hand that layeth Europe waste.
A task indeed! But let it not be thought
By foemen or by those whom we befriend
That Liberty our trust, so dearly bought,