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Date: 17 December 1914



Wilhelm, how a short time ago,
A law unto yourself, you trod
Your ruthless path and bade us know
How Germany's own tribal god
Still lavished his delighted praise
On all your Hunnish acts and ways.

Your heart might bleed ofr [sic] fair Louvain
Glibly the unctuous phrase was said,
But women, aye, and children slain,
A ruined city and its dead,
Proved that the god of all the Huns
Spoke in the thunder of your guns!

But, with your land no more allied,
Your deity deserts his path.
Your ships are sunk beneath the tide; Your god becomes a god of wrath,
And now your royal words confess
A strange, unwonted humbleness.

So, in your darkness shines a ray
As of a Power beyond your ken,
That treads his own appointed way,
Unheeding boasts of sinful men,
And Baal, in whom you put your trust,
Lies mute and shattered in the dust!


Touchstone [pseud.] ‘The German Baal.’ The Cambria Daily Leader. 17 Dec. 1914. 4.

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