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A Song of Defeat

The line breaks and the guns go under,

The lords and the lackeys ride the plain;

I draw deep breaths of the dawn and thunder,

And the whole of my heart grows young again.

For our chiefs said 'Done,' and I did not deem it;

Our seers said 'Peace,' and it was not peace;

Earth will grow worse till men redeem it,

And wars more evil, ere all wars cease.

by Gilbert Keith Chesterton

The Song of Right and Wrong

Feast on wine or fast on water

And your honour shall stand sure,

God Almighty's son and daughter

He the valiant, she the pure;

If an angel out of heaven

Brings you other things to drink,

Thank him for his kind attentions,

Go and pour them down the sink.

by Gilbert Keith Chesterton

Americanisation

Britannia needs no Boulevards,

No spaces wide and gay:

Her march was through the crooked streets

Along the narrow way.

Nor looks she where, New York's seduction,

The Broadway leadeth to destruction.

Britannia needs no Cafes:

If Coffee needs must be,

by Gilbert Keith Chesterton

"Why shouldn't I have a purely vegetarian drink? Why shouldn't I take vegetables in their highest form, so to speak? The modest vegetarians ought to stick to wine or beer, plain vegetable drinks, instead of filling their goblets with the blood of bulls and elephants, as all conventional meat-eaters do, I suppose"—Dalroy.

You will find me drinking rum,

Like a sailor in a slum,

You will find me drinking beer like a Bavarian

You will find me drinking gin

In the lowest kind of inn

Because I am a rigid Vegetarian.

So I cleared the inn of wine,

by Gilbert Keith Chesterton

The Ballad of the White Horse

DEDICATION

Of great limbs gone to chaos,

A great face turned to night—

Why bend above a shapeless shroud

Seeking in such archaic cloud

Sight of strong lords and light?

Where seven sunken Englands

by Gilbert Keith Chesterton

The Song of Quoodle

They haven't got no noses,

The fallen sons of Eve;

Even the smell of roses

Is not what they supposes;

But more than mind discloses

And more than men believe.

They haven't got no noses,

They cannot even tell

by Gilbert Keith Chesterton

The Old Song

A livid sky on London

And like the iron steeds that rear

A shock of engines halted

And I knew the end was near:

And something said that far away, over the hills and far away

There came a crawling thunder and the end of all things here.

For London Bridge is broken down, broken down, broken down,

As digging lets the daylight on the sunken streets of yore,

by Gilbert Keith Chesterton

A Christmas Carol

The Christ-child lay on Mary's lap,

His hair was like a light.

(O weary, weary were the world,

But here is all aright.)

The Christ-child lay on Mary's breast,

His hair was like a star.

(O stern and cunning are the kings,

But here the true hearts are.)

by Gilbert Keith Chesterton

The Ballad of St Barbara

When the long grey lines came flooding upon Paris in the plain,

We stood and drank of the last free air we never could taste again;

They had led us back from a lost battle, to halt we knew not where,

And stilled us; and our gaping guns were dumb with our despair.

The grey tribes flowed for ever from the infinite lifeless lands,

And a Norman to a Breton spoke, his chin upon his hands:

"There was an end to Ilium; and an end came to Rome;

And a man plays on a painted stage in the land that he calls home.

by Gilbert Keith Chesterton

A Ballade of Suicide

The gallows in my garden, people say,

Is new and neat and adequately tall;

I tie the noose on in a knowing way

As one that knots his necktie for a ball;

But just as all the neighbours—on the wall—

Are drawing a long breath to shout "Hurray!"

The strangest whim has seized me. . . . After all

I think I will not hang myself to-day.

by Gilbert Keith Chesterton

The Donkey

When fishes flew and forests walked

And figs grew upon thorn,

Some moment when the moon was blood,

Then surely I was born;

With monstrous head and sickening cry

And ears like errant wings,

The devil's walking parody

On all four-footed things.

by Gilbert Keith Chesterton

Elegy in a Country Churchyard

The men that worked for England

They have their graves at home:

And bees and birds of England

About the cross can roam.

But they that fought for England,

Following a falling star,

Alas, alas for England

They have their graves afar.

by Gilbert Keith Chesterton