Page:Collected poems vol 1 de la mare.djvu/35



IKE an old battle, youth is wild With bugle and spear, and counter cry, Fanfare and drummery, yet a child Dreaming of that sweet chivalry, The piercing terror cannot see.

He, with a mild and serious eye Along the azure of the years, Sees the sweet pomp sweep hurtling by; But he sees not death's blood and tears, Sees not the plunging of the spears.

And all the strident horror of Horse and rider, in red defeat, Is only music fine enough To lull him into slmnber sweet In fields where ewe and lambkin bleat.

O, if with such simplicity Himself take arms and suffer war; With beams his targe shall gilded be, Though in the thickening gloom be far The steadfast light of any star!