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The Pacifist and Other Poems

9781465666871
213 pages
Library of Alexandria
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Overview
In Ben’s blood there coursed the fire of the Celt, A strain of the strong Saxon thew; From his eyes shot a glint of a son of the South— An American type through and through. A dreamer, daredevil, and care free, they say, Who lived in the far remote past,— An unpractical man and careless forsooth; Inclined as a youth to be fast. He’d shot up the town and sowed some wild oats, And once on a time rolled the dice, But heart like an ox and muscled like steel; A dreamer? Yes, without price. He filled no great niche in the town where he lived, Was never considered worth while. The pacifist craft rolled their eyes to the sky And mentioned his name with a smile, An odious smile, twixt a smirk and a grin, A smile that was snaky and sly. They’d ne’er draw a sword nor strike with a club, But could damn with the lift of an eye. The tocsin of war sounds at last in the land, And threatened invasion seemed near. The hand of the patriot went to the sword; The pacifist muttered in fear; He muttered, then sold to the Government, ground Down hard by the burden of Thor, Life’s veriest needs at prohibitive rates; Conscription did curse and abhor.

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