HIS mother bids him go without a tear; His sweetheart walks beside him, proudly gay, "No coward have I loved," her clear eyes say— The band blares out and all the townsfolk cheer. Yet in his heart he thinks: "I am afraid! I am afraid of Fear—how can I tell If in the ordeal 't will go ill or well? How can man tell how bravely man is made?" Steady he waits, obeying brisk command, Head up, chin firm, and every muscle steeled,— Thinking; "I shot a rabbit in a field And sickened at its blood upon my hand." The sky is blue and little winds blow free, He catches up his comrades' marching-song; Their bayonets glitter as they sweep along— ("How ghastly a @3red@1 bayonet must be!") How the folk stare! His comrade on the right Whispers a joke—is gay and debonair, Sure of himself and quite at odds with care;— But does he, too, turn restlessly at night? From each familiar scene his inner eye Turns to far fields by Titans rent and torn; For in that struggle must his soul be born, To look upon itself and live—or die! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CAMPUS SONNET: MAY MORNING by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET ALMANACH DU PRINTEMPS VIVAROIS by HAYDEN CARRUTH FOREST FLOWERS by ROBERT FROST THOUGHTS OF A TINY PIG by DAVID IGNATOW RETURN (1) by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON GUNS AS KEYS: AND THE GREAT GATE SWINGS by AMY LOWELL MERELY STATEMENT by AMY LOWELL |