The Republican journal., 1916-07-27
Presto, another film

Presto, change-another film
Is thrown upon the screen;
Wisdom has died, and Chaos reigns
Der this erstwhile peaceful scene.
The skies are lit by burning towns,
While thunderous peal on peal
foretels the doom OF sceptered crown
Old empires shake and reel
Wheels of industry are silent;
StalWart men from shops and farms
Are arrayed against their brethren;
No sound save the clash of arms.
And the groans of manned and dying,
Mingled with the children's cry,
AS the father of the household
HES him forth to kill and die.
All the able-bodied yoemen
Now must don the soldiers rags
For the HONOR of their countries
And the GLORY of their flags.
And to fall in Europe's trenches
Far from home and family,
Or in million-doIlar casket
To be buried meath the sea,
And we call these nations Christian,
Followers of the Nazarene,
Who taught that Love of neighbor
Was the moral law supreme.
And each prays to God in Heaven,
Who knows no creed nor race,
Asking that his chosen people
May be given special grace;
That their arms be crowned with victory
Whlle4the hearts blood of their foe
May be mingled with the waters
4
Through their beds to meet the ocean,
Where the pirates of the sea
Send our treasure-shlps to bottom.
Laden with humanity.
With this picture now before US,
Brutal war and racial hate,
Can you answer me this question:
who's the man to pay the freight
Will it DE his Royal Highness,
Sitting safely on his throne,
That will reap the full fruition
From the seeds of hatred soWn?
Will it be the lords and ladies'
Who attend the Royal Court?
Or the man who reaps his millions
From this cruel, royal sport?
Nay! The man who frs must suffer
From this great destruction done
is the man without grievance
Who is placed behind a gun
And compelled to shoot his brother,
For no difference of their own,
But to 'venge some fanciful insult
10 man upon throne.
And the widows, orphans, cripples,
Yea, the children yet unborn,
These will eat the bitter fruitage
Of the battles, lost or won.
Friends, methinks the darkest ages
That Europe ever saw
Will follow closely in the wake
Of this futile, cruel war
And methinks the ghost of Caesar
Now for Europe's kings would blush
And plaster cast of Nero
Would take on crimson flush.
IT'S a crime to kill your neighbor,
So our statutes plainly state,
But when nations kill at wholesale,
That man is accounted great
Who can Stay the largest number
Of his neighors at a blow,
If the colors on their banners
Represent them as foe.
Thinking on our Southern question
And the matters o er the sea,
Mighty problems for our solving
Came most forcibly to me.
Begging pardon if | trespass,
III repeat the same to you,
Though grant we may not see things
From the selfsame point of view.
Must we jump into the maelstrom
Of "Inhumanity to MANI"
Must we feed the fowls and fishes
On the European plan?"
Must we build giant navy
To send around the world,
With war paint on and bristling guns
And battle flags unfurled?
Must we teach our boys to murder,
Then, to expiate their crime,
Leave their bodies for the vultures
In some far-off foreign cline?
Should we sell to foreign countries
Guns that may be turned our way,
Helping them to kill each other?
Tell me Brothers, will it pay?