Page:Poems (1915) G K Chesterton.djvu/98



HEN Death was on thy drums, Democracy,

And with one rush of slaves the world was free,

In that high dawn that Kings shall not forget,

A void there was and Walter was not yet.

Through sacked Versailles, at Valmy in the fray,

They did without him in some kind of way;

Red Christendom all Walterless they cross,

And in their fury hardly feel their loss

Fades the Republic; faint as Roland's horn,

Her trumpets taunt us with a sacred scorn

Then silence fell; and Mr. Long was born.

From his first hours in his expensive cot

He never saw the tiniest viscount shot.

In deference to his wealthy parents' whim

The wildest massacres were kept from him.