This Is No Case of Petty Right or Wrong

Edward Thomas

This is no case of petty right

    or wrong

That politicians or

    philosophers

Can judge. I hate not

    Germans, not grow hot

With love of Englishmen, to

    please newspapers.

Beside my hate for one fat

    patriot

My hatred of the Kaiser is

    love true: —

A kind of god he is, banging

    a gong.

But I have not to choose

    between the two,

Or between justice and

    injustice. Dinned

With war and argument I

    read no more

Than in the storm smoking

    along the wind

Athwart the wood. Two

    witches’ cauldrons roar.

From one the weather shall

    rise clear and gay;

Out of the other an England

    beautiful

And like her mother that

    died yesterday.

Little I know or care if,

    being dull,

I shall miss something that

    historians

Can take out of the ashes

    when perchance

The phoenix broods serene

    above their ken.

But with the best and

    meanest Englishmen

I am one in crying, God save

    England, lest

We lose what never slaves

    and cattle blessed.

The ages made her that

    made us from dust:

She is all we know and live

    by, and we trust

She is good and must

    endure, loving her so:

And as we love ourselves we

    hate her foe.

—1915