Classic Poem

Are you sheltered, curled up and content by the world's warm fire?
Then I say that your soul is in danger!
The sons of the Light, they are down with God in the mire,
God in the manger.

The old-time heroes you honor, whose banners you bear,
The world no longer prohibits:
But if you peer into the past you will find them there,
Swinging from gibbets.

So, rouse from your perilous ease to your sword and your shield!
Your ease is the ease of the cattle,
Hark, hark, where the bugles are calling: Out to some field —
Out to some battle!