 | The Complete Works of James Whitcomb Riley |  |
1465
SONG OF THE BULLET
It whizzed and whistled along the blurred
And red-blent ranks; and it nicked the star
Of an epaulette, as it snarled the word—
War!
And red-blent ranks; and it nicked the star
Of an epaulette, as it snarled the word—
War!
On it sped—and the lifted wrist
Of the ensign-bearer stung, and straight
Dropped at his side as the word was hissed—
Hate!
Of the ensign-bearer stung, and straight
Dropped at his side as the word was hissed—
Hate!
On went the missile—smoothed the blue
Of a jaunty cap and the curls thereof,
Cooing, soft as a dove might do—
Love!
Of a jaunty cap and the curls thereof,
Cooing, soft as a dove might do—
Love!
Sang!—sang on!—sang hate—sang war—
Sang love, in sooth, till it needs must cease,
Hushed in the heart it was questing for.—
Peace!
Sang love, in sooth, till it needs must cease,
Hushed in the heart it was questing for.—
Peace!
| The Complete Works of James Whitcomb Riley | |