What waist would shun th' indenture
Of such a gallant squeeze?
What girl's heart not dare venture
The hot-and-cold disease?
Nay, let them do their service
Before the lads depart!
That hand goes where the curve is
That billows o'er the heart.
Who deems not how 'tis given,
What knows he of its worth?
'Tis either fire of heaven
Or earthiness of earth.
And if the lips are fickle
That kiss, they'll never know
If tears begin to trickle
Where they saw roses blow.
"The girl I left behind me,"
He'll sing, nor hear her moan,
"The tears they come to blind me
As I sit here alone."
What else had you to offer,
Poor spendthrift of the town?
Lay out your unlockt coffer--
The Lord will know His own.
The Great End
By Arnold Bennett.
Fear that the British Government in its discussion of peace
terms with Germany might defer to the policy of France and
Russia of keeping important negotiations secret inspired the
writing of this article, which appeared in The London Daily
News of April 1, 1915, and is here published by the author's
permission.
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