i Richard Le Gnllieuue.) War I abhor, Ai-d yet how sweet. The sound along the marching street Of drum and fife ! A'-id I forget Wet eyes of widows, and forget Broken old mothers, and the whole Dark butchery without a soul. Without a soul—save this bright, drink Of heady music, sweet as death ; And even my peace-abiding feet Go marching with tho maiching street : For youuder, yonder, goes the fife. And what care 1 for human life'.' The tears fill my astonished eyes. And my full heart is like to break. And yet 'tis all enibannered l:es, A dream the little drummers make. O it is wickedness to clothe Vou hideous grinning thing that stalks Hidden in music, like a queen That in a garden of glory walks. Till good men love the" thing thev loathe. Art, thou hast many infamies, But not an infamy like this ! O snap the fife, and still the drum, And show the monster as she is.
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ILLUSION, Evening Star, Issue 15633, 26 October 1914
ILLUSION Evening Star, Issue 15633, 26 October 1914
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