The Rubaiyat of Billi Kaisam by Oliver Herford

Surnamed the Tentbreaker

I. Ah, Franz! Could you and I with Gott conspire / To grab this sorry little globe entire, / Would we not shatter it to bits, and then / Remould it nearer to our heart's desire?

II. You all know how, the world to overwhelm / I made a second Sparta of my realm / And "dropped the Pilot" from my ship of State / To lay my own mailed fist upon the helm.

III. And how myself did eagerly frequent / Councils of war and heard great argument / About it and about, and every year / Came out with great and greater armament.

IV. For though in ME and MINE I set great store / And THEE and THINE are terms that I abhor, / Of all that one should care to fathom, I / Was never deep in anything but -- war.

V. Bernhardi, Nietzsche, Treitschke, who discussed / Of the "Next War," so wisely, they are thrust / Like foolish prophets forth, their words to scorn / Are scattered and their mouths are stopped with dust.

VI. With them the seed of warfare did I sow, / And with mine own hand wrought to make it grow. / And this is all the Harvest I have reaped: / "I came like thunder -- and like wind I go!"

VII. And lately from Hell's Cavern Door rose up / A shape Titanic, ravening to sup / On Living Human Fodder, and he bade / Me give him taste of it; and 'twas -- The Krupp.

VIII. The Krupp that can with Logic absolute / The plans of modern Strategists confute / The steel iconoclast that in a trice / The strongest Fortress into Dust transmute.

IX. The Krupp no question makes of Aye and No, / But strikes alike Cathedral or Château / And I who send it out into the Field -- / I know about it all -- I know -- I know!

X. And much as War has made an infidel / Of me, and robbed me of my honour, well / I often wonder what the Devil has / One half so devilish as I -- In Hell!

XI. Ah, but _my_ innovations people say / Placed war upon a sounder basis? Nay, / 'Twas only striking from War's lexicon / The terms TRUTH, HONOUR, DECENCY, FAIR PLAY.

XII. The Treaties that I set my seal upon / Are turned to dust and ashes, which anon / Like snowflakes falling in a muddy street / Lighting a little hour or two are gone.

XIII. What if my sword can fling the Sheath aside / And naked plunge into the crimson tide, / Were't not a shame, were't not a shame for me, / By a "mere scrap of paper" to abide?

XIV. Indeed, indeed, continually I swore / For Peace -- but was I solemn when I swore? / And then -- then came the Day and sword in hand / My threadbare piety apieces tore.

XV. From Europe's centre, through the Belgian gate / I rode and at the Door of Paris sate. / And many a city ravished by the road, / But Paris -- she is still immaculate.

XVI. Here was the Gate to which I found no key; / Here was the Wall o'er which I might not see. / Some little talk awhile of strategy / There was, and then -- good afternoon, Paree!