_M._ But you have had the Hohenzollern Order presented to you and the
All-Highest has written you with his own gracious hand a letter.
_Von B.-H._ _Verbosa et grandis epistola venit a Capreis._ As for the
Hohenzollern Order I don't care a snap of the fingers for it. Nor will
you when your time comes.
_M._ I hope that will not be for many years.
_Von B.-H._ For your sake I hope your time may be short. In any case I
must thank you most warmly for your tactful condolences.
* * * * *
THE REST-RUMOUR.
I know not in what rodent-haunted caverns
By what rough tongues the tale was first expressed,
By choking fires or in the whispering taverns
With wine and omelette lovingly caressed,
Or what tired soul, o'erladen with a lump
Of bombs and bags which someone _had_ to hump,
Flung down his load indignant at the Dump
And, cursing, cried, "_It's time we had a rest!_"
And so, maybe, began it. Some sly runner,
Half-hearing, half-imagining, no doubt,
Caught up the word and gave it to a gunner,
And he, embroidering, 'twas noised about
From lip to lip in many a trench's press
Where working parties struggled to progress
Or else go back, but both without success,
"_Officer says Division's going out.
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