When Hate’s black standard is at length unfurled
And stored-up rancours smite thee,—when from France
Springs Waterloo’s for ever poisoned lance
And Germany, like a huge snake uncurled,
Gleams fierce and fork-tongued,—when from Russia hurled
Dark armies down the Asian vales advance
Pitiless, immense, barbaric,—when no glance
Meets thine of friendship, not through all the world,
Though bright through all the world flamed once thy flag,—
Then, while the mad guns rave from crag to crag
And thou art wrestling with the hosts of man,
Thine armour rent even as a woman’s scarf,
Who shall stand by thee? This thy loving dwarf,
Thy staunch ally, thy saviour, swart Japan.