<html xmlns:tei="http://www.tei-c.org/ns/1.0"><body><h1 align="center" class="head">To the Troubler of the World</h1><div class="stanza"><p class="line"><span class="smallcaps">At</span> last we know you, War-lord. You, that flung</p><p class="line" style="text-indent:5%">The gauntlet down, fling down the mask you wore,</p><p class="line" style="text-indent:5%">Publish your heart, and let its pent hate pour,</p><p class="line">You that had God for ever on your tongue.</p><p class="line">We are old in war, and if in guile we are young,</p><p class="line" style="text-indent:5%">Young also is the spirit that evermore</p><p class="line" style="text-indent:5%">Burns in our bosom ev'n as heretofore,</p><p class="line">Nor are these thews unbraced, these nerves unstrung.</p><p class="line">We do not with God's name make wanton play;</p><p class="line" style="text-indent:5%">We are not on such easy terms with Heaven;</p><p class="line">But in Earth's hearing we can verily say,</p><p class="line" style="text-indent:5%">"Our hands are pure; for peace, for peace we have striven";</p><p class="line" style="text-indent:5%">And not by Earth shall he be soon forgiven</p><p class="line">Who lit the fire accurst that flames to-day.</p></div><p class="byline">WILLIAM WATSON</p><em>Times, August</em> 6, 1914</body></html> · Great War