[Mr. Oscar Wilde, having discovered that England is unworthy of him, has announced his resolve to become a naturalised Frenchman.] <br /> <br /> <br />And wilt thou, Oscar, from us flee, <br />And must we, henceforth, wholly sever? <br />Shall thy laborious _jeux-d'esprit_ <br />Sadden our lives no more for ever? <br /> <br />And all thy future wilt thou link <br />With that brave land to which thou goest? <br />Unhappy France! we _used_ to think <br />She touched, at Sedan, fortune's lowest. <br /> <br />And you're made French as easily <br />As you might change the clothes you're wearing? <br />Fancy!--and 'tis so hard to be <br />A man of sense and modest bearing. <br /> <br />May fortitude beneath this blow <br />Fail not the gallant Gallic nation! <br />By past experience, well we know <br />Her genius for recuperation. <br /> <br />And as for us--to our disgrace, <br />Your stricture's truth must be conceded: <br />Would any but a stupid race <br />Have made the fuss about you _we_ did?<br /><br />William Watson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/lines-to-our-new-censor/
