Gone
are the
days of
old Romance
When
beauteous
dame and
lordly knight
In
stately
hall glide
through
a dance.
No
more is
heard the
clang of
lance
In
tourney
field, each
for his
right
And
that of
one who
by her glance
Has
filled his
eye with
joyous light.
Nor
yet is seen
upon the
height
With
bristling
spears a
host advance
To
scale a
castle wall,
I wight,
Where
lives a
maid whose
lips entrance.
But
now we have
a gorgeous
war
Where
love and
life and
hopes are
spilled
And
shrapnel
shriek and
cannons
roar –
We
live – and
fools say
God is killed. |