"Men talk of France, the Martyr; of her precious blood outpoured;
Of the innocent helpless victims of the brutal Hunnish horde;
Presuming, insensate idiots, to label as beast and brute
The race that has always held me in the very highest repute!

"While France has failed completely, at least in those later days,
To show appreciation of my Prefaces and Plays;
It wouldn't be therefore worthy of a genuine superman
To show undue compassion for the sorrows of 'Marianne.'

"And as for the sheer destruction of noble and ancient fanes
Which the prejudiced Hun-hater indignantly arraigns,
The simple truth compels me in honesty to state
That the style of some ruined buildings was utterly second-rate.

"But to quit these trivial matters--let weaklings wail and weep,
The loss of a few cathedrals will never affect my sleep--
What lifts this Armageddon to an altitude sublime
Is the crowning fact that it gave me a perfectly glorious time.

"As an ultra-neutral observer I entered the battle zone
And emerged unmoved, unshaken, with a heart as cool as a stone;
No sight could touch or daunt me, no sound my soul untune;
From pity or tears or sorrow I still remained immune.

"I own that before my arrival I felt an occasional qualm
Lest the shock of the unexpected might shatter my wonted calm;
But it gave me the richest rapture to find I was wholly free
From the crude and vulgar emotions that harass the plain V.C.