war

I hate that drum’s discordant sound,
Parading round, and round, and round:
To thoughtless youth it pleasure yields,
And lures from cities and from fields,
To sell their liberty for charms
Of tawdry lace and glitt’ring arms;
And when Ambition’s voice commands,
To fight and fall in foreign lands.

I hate that drum’s discordant sound,
Parading round, and round, and round:
To me it talks of ravaged plains,
And burning towns and ruin’d swains,
And mangled limbs, and dying groans,
And widow’s tears, and orphans moans,
And all that Misery’s hand bestows,
To fill a catalogue of woes.

John Scott of Amwell (January 9, 1731 – December 12, 1783)

^^^

As part of Audere’s mission to bring more poetry to the masses, our sister publishing house, Chickadee Prince Books, publishes Bloomsbury’s Late Rose, an acclaimed novel about the poet, Charlotte Mew. Read more Audere poetry here.

Image by The DigitalArtist/Pixabay