The storied calm of old Cathay Is shattered by a rending blast, And in the smoke-drift waft away The pictures of a dreaming past —- Dark China of the traveller's tale, Strange fancy and exotic fad. All vanish in a leaden hail. The world has turned a little mad. A blandly smiling mandarin, The tinkle of a temple bell, And golden ladies drooping in The pathway by the bamboo dell -— All, all has vanished in a breath For stern-faced warriors khaki clad Armed with new instruments of death. The world has turned a little mad. Coy Lotus Blossom, ivory maid. Sloe-eyed, slim-fingered, strange of gait, Hung round with ornaments of jade —- Shade from the willow-pattern plate —- Gives place, to Madam, college-bred, Broadcasting now a story sad To all the earth, sown wide with dread. The world has turned a little mad. The splendours of the Peacock Throne, The curious tales with dragons strewn, Quaint fables that our youth had known Fade to a faster, fiercer rune. Boots tramping thro' the yellow mud Where bare-foot coolies used to pad Imprint the modern tale of blood; Surely the earth is turning mad."Den"
Herald, 22 September 1937
The Courier Mail, 23 October 1937, p23
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