To war, and its terrible woe.
His sin? That his great reason fell
To pain, its loud cry, when he bored
The hot branding iron, to tell
The victims all wars can afford.
His sin? 'Tis the nation's to take
A sensitive soul such as this,
To press into service, and make
A butcher; a god-like man miss;
A man of such power and great range
Be turned into such an account,
Because we in ignorance arrange
The goats with the sheep in amount;
That wisdom we lack, to engage
Great souls for mean tasks thus to do;
To force into service a sage.
The outcome was sure, as it grew.
His cloud of great sorrow will lift
Not far from his wonderful brain,
This Evil One that will not shift,
Give way to his reason again.
Just so, can we not understand?
Men are not all made just alike.
To one, 'tis pure joy, master hand—
Another, hell torture,—the like.
His sin? That his great reason fell
To pain, its loud cry, when he bored
The hot branding iron, to tell
The victims all wars can afford.
His sin? 'Tis the nation's to take
A sensitive soul such as this,
To press into service, and make
A butcher; a god-like man miss;
A man of such power and great range
Be turned into such an account,
Because we in ignorance arrange
The goats with the sheep in amount;
That wisdom we lack, to engage
Great souls for mean tasks thus to do;
To force into service a sage.
The outcome was sure, as it grew.
His cloud of great sorrow will lift
Not far from his wonderful brain,
This Evil One that will not shift,
Give way to his reason again.
Just so, can we not understand?
Men are not all made just alike.
To one, 'tis pure joy, master hand—
Another, hell torture,—the like.
[126]
