 | The Poetical Works of John Critchley Prince |  |
181
A THOUGHT ON WAR.
'Tis strange, profanely strange, but men will standUpon some spot of blighted happiness,
Where the Omnipotent's mysterious hand
Has fallen with disaster and distress,
And they, perchance, will question His just laws,
Wax grave, and sigh, and look demurely wise,
As if, poor fools! they could arraign the Cause,
And see with Wisdom's never-failing eyes!
But let them saunter o'er a battle-plain,
Still red and reeking from the recent strife,
Where, spurred by lust of conquest and of gain,
Relentless heels have trod out human life,
And they will prate of greatness, glory, fame!
God! how Thy creature man insults Thy holy name!
| The Poetical Works of John Critchley Prince | |