Black Beetles in Amber

I am for Cutting. I'm a blade

Designed for use at dress parade.

My gleaming length, when I display

Peace rules the land with gentle sway;

But when the war-dogs bare their teeth

Go seek me in the modest sheath.

I am for Cutting. Not for me

The task of setting nations free.

Let soulless blades take human life,

My softer metal shuns the strife.

The annual review is mine,

When gorgeous shopmen sweat and shine,

And Biddy, tip-toe on the pave,

Adores the cobble-trotting brave.

I am for Cutting. 'Tis not mine

To hew amain the hostile line;

Not mine all pitiless to spread

The plain with tumuli of dead.

My grander duty lies afar

From haunts of the insane hussar,

Where charging horse and struggling foot

Are grimed alike with cannon-soot.

When Loveliness and Valor meet

Beneath the trees to dance, and eat,

And sing, and much beside, behold

My golden glories all unfold!

There formidably are displayed

The useful horrors of my blade

In time of feast and dance and ballad,

I am for cutting chicken salad.