England to Germany in 1914

Autumn 1914 'O England, may God punish thee!' — Is it that Teuton genius flowers Only to breathe malignity Upon its friend of earlier hours? — We have eaten your bread, you have eaten ours, We have loved your burgs, your pines' green moan, Fair Rhine-stream, and its storied towers; Your shining souls of deathless dowers Have won us as they were our own: We have nursed no dreams to shed your blood, We have matched your might not rancorously Save a flushed few whose blatant mood You heard and marked as well as we To tongue not in their country's key; But yet you cry with face aflame, 'O England, may God punish thee!' And foul in onward history, And present sight, your ancient name.