Jessie Pope Poems

Time was, not very long ago,
When Mabel's walking skirt
Trailed half a yard behind to show
How well she swept the dirt.
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In heaven, a pale uncertain star,
Through sullen vapour peeps,
On earth, extended wide and far,
In all the symmetry of war,
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Why do we cheer those brown-faced boys with pride,
Why do dense crowds press round on every side,
Why do we throw them flowers, our hearts aglow?
Well—turn a minute to three years ago.
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Foe and friend and foe again,
Turning coat and turning yet,
That's a feat you don't disdain,
De Wet.
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Dr-rud dr-rud dr-rud dr-rud
Kitchener's Army on the march
Through Marylebone and Marble Arch,
Men in motley, so to speak,
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Here's a prominent person
I must write a verse on
His ways are so strictly impartial,
His power is great,
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In the nonage of the year,
When anemones appear,
And the buffets of the breeze are soft as silk,
When each sparrow spars and heckles,
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When the housebreaking business is slack
And cracksmen are finding it slow
For all the sea-siders are back
And a great many more didn't go
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When Blucher helped us make an end
Of Bonaparte, the common foe,
He came to England as a friend,
About a hundred years ago.
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I never have clung to a motor car,
Or crouched on a motor bike.
Worry and scurry, clank and jar
I cordially dislike.
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