And the bunting's ordered out,
I have noticed several people
Ask themselves in honest doubt
Why the War-Lord's lifted finger fails to bring a peace about.

Yet, though England, crushed and quailing,
Kicks his dove-bird down the stair,
I shall trust, with faith unfailing,
In my KAISER'S conquering air
(Still I blame no man for thinking there must be a catch somewhere).

O.S.

* * * * *


RECOGNITION.

"Francesca," I said, "have you seen it?"

"It? What?"

"The announcement."

"What announcement?"

"I have been gazetted," I said.

"Did it hurt much?" she said. "Or were you able to bear it without a
murmur?"