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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=357473" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Breathing-Time</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Peace, perfect peace. . . . Come, lay aside your gun.<br>The danger zone is past; the gauntlet run.<br>The bark of Scylla ceases on her shore,<br>And grim Charybdis threatens us no more.<br>Respite, Nepenthe, leaning-posts and beer!<br>Football and horses! Breathing time is here!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>O witless fools, who, with your cry, 'To Arms!'<br>Your warnings venomous, and false alarms,<br>Sought to estrange us from our yellow friends,<br>Thus all your potter and your bunkum ends!<br>We are secure once more; we breathe again.<br>No further need is there for ships or men.<br>'The Treaty is renewed!' Hip, Hip, Hooray! . . .<br>Now let us dream the happy hours away.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>One pen-stroke! and our liberty appears<br>Secure again, for ten long, blissful years.<br>A diplomat or two, a little ink,<br>Some paper, and, Hi Presto! in a wink,<br>The Yellow Peril vanishes from sight,<br>Like vague dream shadows of a restless night.<br>Let gentleness and peace overspread the land;<br>And bid our infant warriors disband.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>The War-god broods o'er Europe even yet?<br>What matter? We've a decade to forget<br>That e'er we dreamed we heard the grim dogs bark.<br>What child at noon is fearful of the dark?<br>The forges of the nations still are lit?<br>Their anvils ring? What do we reek of it?<br>With ten long years of peace and joy and light,<br>We laugh at our vague terrors of the night.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Are truces ever broken? Treaties scorned?<br>Statesmen corrupted? Diplomats suborned?<br>Perish the thought! What if, in some far day,<br>Some foreswom nation flung its bond away?<br>Shall we, for such as that, forego our joy,<br>And start at shadows, like a frightened boy?<br>Shall croaking pessimists, with mild alarms,<br>Force us, all needlessly, to fly to arms?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Down with the dolts who prate of ships and guns!<br>Stern Mars shall not enslave Australia's sons.<br>Come, gag the fools who urge us to defend<br>Our ports against our harmless yellow friend!<br>Their words are insults; their aggressiveness<br>May give him pain, and cause us much distress.<br>Ab, gaze on him! as he steps forth to sign -<br>Say, is his smile not peaceful and benign?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Ten years to hoard the gold in shop and mart;<br>Ten peaceful years to play the trader's part;<br>To tend the sheep; to watch the green corn sprout<br>To cheer the race; to gaily clap and shout<br>At sports of children, played by heedless men.<br>Ten years of sweet Areadia - and then? . . .<br>Heed not the voice that thunders the alarm:<br>'Ten years to play the man! Ten years to arm!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>(O God of Battles, who, thus long, hath spared<br>A heedless nation, grant we be prepared!<br>Ten pregnant years! Tens canty years of grace,<br>To make or mar the fortune of a race.<br>Grim years of strenuous and unceasing toil,<br>That all may not become a foeman's spoil -<br>That it may not be told, some fateful day:<br>'Ten years they had; ten years they fooled away.')</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Peace, perfect peace. . . Ho, let the fun begin,<br>And split the welkin with a joyous din!<br>Charybdis grim has ceased to roar and rave,<br>And Scylla sits demurely in her cave.<br>Ho! clash the cymbals, and begin the race!<br>And thank the gods we have a breathing-space.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Clarence+Michael+James+Stanislaus+Dennis">Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=357473" data-title="Breathing-Time de Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis" data-description="Peace, perfect peace. . . . Come, lay aside your gun.
The danger zone is past; the gauntlet run.
The bark of Scylla ceases on her shore,
And grim Charybdis threatens us no more.
Respite, Nepenthe, leaning-posts and beer!
Football and horses! Breat..."></div>
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