A Personal View Of War

I NEVER pondered much on war, Except to think it was inspiring To have a cause to battle for, To hear the guns and cannons firing; To see brave men rush up to death Without a sign or trace of terror, To give their country blood and breath, But now I know it's all an error; War is a frightful thing I know, What if my boy should have to go? Last night I leaned above his crib And spent a little while in playing, tickled him beneath his bib, And watched his little body swaying With innocent delight, and then It seemed I heard the noise of battle, The wails and shrieks of dying men, The cannons' boom, the muskets' rattle, And shuddered as I stooped down low, What if my babe some day must go? War did not seem a splendid thing, There was no glory in the fighting, No thrill in hearing bullets sing, No joy in men each other smiting. I saw but heartache, and the grave, And misery and desolation, As splendid fellows, bold and brave, Were sacrificed unto the nation; I wept with men of long ago Whose boys marched out to face the foe. I used to think that war was grand That bugle calls were splendid, thrilling; But now I know and understand, They sound the message to start killing. And when I ponder now on war 'Tis but to see the terror of it, The glory that I saw before Has vanished in the error of it. War may have seemed a brilliant show, It's different when your own may go!