To minister to Christians in intent

While here, a Harvard Light thought to declare

That war's no worse than crossing Harvard Square

And then, his euphemistic quipping done

He promptly got a job in Washington

For gentle refutation, if we had

One seething acre of, say, Stalingrad,

And slyly carpeted the Square with it,

Our valiant humorist would then admit

(Though stationed in the Yard, or more extremely)

The sound was harsh, the odor quite unseemly.

We might continue in this vein with ardor

To fright ourselves with shapes of sanctioned murder.

We might,--but won't. Good taste would soon revile

A shabby sentiment so out of style