Page:Fifes and Drums, Poems of America at War, Vigilantes, 1917.djvu/106



Bon jour, Marcel! Your hand.

At last our stars

Have come to join your triple bars;

We're here to fight with France—

By God, give us the chance!—

We heard the cries

Of helpless children; saw the frightened eyes

Of women shrinking from the maddened crew

That swept their land; we felt

The quiver of the tortured sod, and smelt

The smoke of burning villages; we knew

You needed us, that's what we're coming for—

To stop this war.

Dis donc, Emile! We couldn't stand their cant:

"God and the Fatherland." And trampling