Dost see how unregarded now,
The U.N's banner flutters?
There were past P.Ms who did vow
To that 'bove all;
But, mark the chance of charters;
The blue and white works now no more on me
Than if it could not charm, or I not see.

And yet the badge continued good,
Though my wars set their pyres,
On which this age's flesh and blood
I've left to melt,
Dishonoured by such fires:
Where now's the power to conjure once again,
The pallid blue and white's lost regimen?

My wars each day fresh folk consume
And, though I do not die,
No strength is left that can resume
The white dove's flight
To wreath blue heavens high.
Blood-bannered regimes, unlike peace-pledged states,
Have hidden periods set - yet certain fates.

                    (Apologies to Sir John Suckling)