Drums of doom are marching to the battle. The bugle calls of death are crying, crying. Come, Youth, the gods of hate demand your chattel! Men, many men are needed for the dying! The martial music of the regiments Blare their insistent summons. From a hill Bold banners float above ten thousand tents Where multitudes are learning how to kill. Hate, still thy drums! War, make thy trumpets mute! Earth, stay vain sacrifice of singing sons Gone forth to massacre! Love, give salute! God! Save young laughter from the lust of guns! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PENT by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON ODE: THE MEDITERRANEAN by GEORGE SANTAYANA THE COCK AND THE BULL by CHARLES STUART CALVERLEY A DIRGE (1) by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS THE WILD SWANS AT COOLE by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS OUR PASSWORD by ISIDORE G. ASCHER EGYPTIAN THEOSOPHY by MATHILDE BLIND THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 60. THE TRIUMPH OF LOVE by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 16 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH |