THE pulse of War, whose bloody heats Sane purposes insanely work, Now with fraternal frenzy beats, And binds the Christian to the Turk, And shrieking fifes and braggart flags, Through quiet England, teach our breath The courage corporate that drags The coward to heroic death. Too late for song! Who henceforth sings, Must fledge his heavenly flight with more Song-worthy and heroic things Than hasty, home-destroying war. While might and right are not agreed, And battle thus is yet to wage, So long let laurels be the meed Of soldier as of poet sage; But men expect the Tale of Love, And weary of the Tale of Hate; Lift me, O Muse, myself above, And let the world no longer wait! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AT THE MERMAID TAVERN (APRIL 10, 1613) by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE YANKEE'S RETURN FROM CAMP [JUNE, 1775] by EDWARD BANGS THE WILLING MISTRESS by APHRA BEHN CINQUAIN: THE WARNING by ADELAIDE CRAPSEY FARE WELL by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE PHANTOMS ALL by HARRIET PRESCOTT SPOFFORD MOUNTAIN FROLIC by GEORGE LAWRENCE ANDREWS |