Volume 158 — TO AMERICA

When you refuse to sign the Peace Except with various "reservations," And prophesy a swift decease Impinging on the League of Nations; When you whose arms (we've understood) Settled the War and wiped the Bosch out Regard the whole world's brotherhood As just a wash-out; You say, in terms a little blunt, "This scheme that you are advertising Was all along a private stunt Of Wilson's singular devising; His game we weren't allowed to know; Under a misty smile he masked it; We never gave him leave to go (He never asked it). "And you, poor credulous Allies, Found in this fellow, self-appointed, The worth he had in his own eyes And let him pose as God's anointed; Taking no sort of pains to see Whether or not he had a mandate, Like puppy-dogs the other Three Out of his hand ate." But how if we had queered his claim Or questioned his credentials, saying, "Who is this Woodrow What's-his-name? And what's the rôle he thinks he's playing? Is he a Methodist divine? Or does he boom Chicago bacon?"— I think that I can guess the line You would have taken. "Behold a Man," I hear you say, "Of peerless wit and ripe instruction, Elect of Heaven and U.S.A.— Surely an ample introduction; He comes to put Creation right; He brings no chits—he doesn't need 'em; Who doubts his faith will have to fight The Bird of Freedom!" O.S.