Page:Fifes and Drums, Poems of America at War, Vigilantes, 1917.djvu/93

Rh

So at last the land grew weary and implored with shrieks and sobs,

"Let our welfare be conducted by some men who know their jobs.

Are our railroads run by poets? Or do cobblers harvest hay?

Then in military matters why should windmills rule the day?"

But the question was so pointed and its moral so direct

That it could not thread the labyrinthine hallways, we suspect,

Leading to the Inner Sanctum of the Crooked Wooden Sword,

Of the Roundabout Committee and the Circumlocution Board.

Wallace Irwin.