Will nothing rouse you! not the finger of
Pointed by patriotic Teutons, nor the fears
Of France, nor Belgium’s blood and Belgian
Frustrate of hoping for the earlier morn
Of peace among the peoples battle-worn?
Then let the cry of Britons in your ears
—Betrayed by you who sent them forth with
Sound from the trenches lost and overborne.
For how without munition can they stand
Against the invader, how ensure supplies
Without the keels and guns that guard the
While trading on the realm’s necessities
Inopportune you wrangle for your hand
And weigh your wage against a brother’s
(The European War 1914-1915 Poems, p. 181)