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Sam Walter Foss (Сэм Уолтер Фосс)

The Coming War

     "THERE will be a war in Europe, 
    Thrones will be rent and overturned," 
("Go and fetch a pail of water," said his wife).
    "Nations shall go down in slaughter, 
    Ancient capitals be burned," 
("Hurry up and split the kindlings," said his wife).
    "Cities wrapped in conflagration! 
    Nation decimating nation! 
    Chaos crashing through creation!" 
("Go along and feed the chickens," said his wife).

    "And the war shall reach to Asia, 
    And the Orient be rent," 
("When you going to pay the grocer?" says his wife).
    "And the myrmidons of thunder 
    Shake the trembling continent," 
("Hurry up and beat them carpets," said his wife).
    "Million myriads invading, 
    Rapine, rioting, and raiding, 
    Conquest, carnage, cannonading!" 
("Wish you'd come and stir this puddin'," said his wife).

    "Oh, it breaks my heart, this onflict 
    Of the Sclav and Celt and Dane," 
("Bob has stubbed his rubber boots on," said his wife).
    "Oh, the draggled Russian banners! 
    Oh, the chivalry of Spain!" 
("We have got no more molasses," said his wife).
    "See the marshalled millions led on 
    With no bloodless sod to tread on, 
    Gog and Magog! Armageddon!" 
("Hurry up and get a yeast cake," said his wife).

    "Oh, the grapple of the nations, 
    It is coming, woe is me!" 
("Did you know we're out of flour?" said his wife).
    "Oh, the many-centuried empires 
    Overwhelmed in slaughter's sea!" 
("Wish you'd go and put the cat out," said his wife).
    "Death and dreadful dissolution 
    Wreak their awful execution, 
    Carnage, anarchy, confusion!" 
("Let me have two cents for needles," said his wife.

    "All my love goes out to Europe, 
    And my heart is torn and sad," 
("How can I keep house on nothing?" said his wife).
    "O, the carnival of carnage, 
    O, the battle, malestrom mad!" 
("Wish you'd battle for a living," said his wife).
    "Down in smoke and blood and thunder, 
    While the stars look on in wonder, 
    Must these empires all go under?" 
("Where're we going to get our dinner?" said his wife). 

Sam Walter Foss's other poems:
  1. The Calf-Path
  2. The Trumpets
  3. Business
  4. The Poster-Painter's Masterpiece
  5. Odium Theologicum

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