How the uniforms shone as we wheeled o’er the grass—
No koh-i-noor gleams like those buttons of brass!
Our scabbards and sashes were artfully dangled,
And if they at times in our ankles got tangled,
The terror to others was full compensation
For dangers attending our perambulation.
Was it fun? There are those within reach of my words
Who remember when ploughshares were cleft into swords;
When hushed was the voice of youth’s laughter and mirth,
As the flag, broken-winged, fluttered, bleeding, to earth.