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A poem by Amy Lowell |
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A Ballad Of Footmen |
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Title: A Ballad Of Footmen Author: Amy Lowell [More Titles by Lowell] Now what in the name of the sun and the stars Do men find life so full of humour and joy Fifteen millions of soldiers with popguns and horses Are not quite the same. All these men by the ears, It is folly to think that the will of a king They value, and life is, at least one supposes, Have not grown up between one foot and the other. Such quite elementary feelings, and tag His legs and his arms at the word of command Fit only for mince-meat, if a little gold lace Bullets, and bayonets, and death, and diseases, If each man were to lay down his weapon, and say, Now what, may I ask, could the Emperor do? Angry? Oh, of course, a most furious Emperor! The dire results which could not be inflicted. Is just the weak wind from an old, broken bellows. To be killing each other, unmercifully, Or is it that tasting the blood on their jaws So patiently builded, are nothing to drinking I don't suppose tigers do, fighting cocks, sparrows, Are running with blood they have gulped; it is plain Toll the bells in the steeples left standing. Half-mast Take the dust of the streets and sprinkle your head, Squeeze into this archway, the head of the line [The end] GO TO TOP OF SCREEN |