FOREIGN MENACE

I marvel that this land, whereof I claim

The glory of sonship — for it was erewhile

A glory to be sprung of Britain's isle,

Though now it well-nigh more resembles shame —

I marvel that this land with heart so tame

Can brook the northern insolence and guile.

But most it angers me, to think how vile

Art thou, how base, from whom the insult came,

Unwieldly laggard, many an age behind

Thy sister Powers, in brain and conscience both;

In recognition of man's widening mind

And flexile adaptation to its growth:

Brute bulk, that bearest on thy back, half loth,

One wretched man, most pitied of mankind.