To the United States

Traitors have carried the word about
That your hearts are cold with the doubt that kills.
Fools! As though you could sink to doubt;
You — whom the name of freedom thrills!

They fear lest we plead with you by our blood
To throb with England in this great fight,
Caring no whit if the cause be good,
Crying — "It's England's, account it right."

Nay but that call would be vain indeed;
Not thus do brothers to brothers speak.
We shall not plead with you — let them plead,
Whose heel is set on the necks of the weak

Let them plead who have piled the dead
League after league in that little land,
Whose hands with the blood of babes are red.
Red — while they'd grasp you by the hand.

Let them plead, if for shame they dare.
Whose honour is broke and their oaths forsworn —
We shall know by the blood we share
The answer you cannot speak for scorn.

September 1914