Shapes of Clay

"O warrior with the burnished arms—

With bullion cord and tassel—

Pray tell me of the lurid charms

Of service and the fierce alarms:

The storming of the castle,

The charge across the smoking field,

The rifles' busy rattle—

What thoughts inspire the men who wield

The blade—their gallant souls how steeled

And fortified in battle."

"Nay, man of peace, seek not to know

War's baleful fascination—

The soldier's hunger for the foe,

His dread of safety, joy to go

To court annihilation.

Though calling bugles blow not now,

Nor drums begin to beat yet,

One fear unmans me, I'll allow,

And poisons all my pleasure: How

If I should get my feet wet!"