Classic Poem

They'll never have done with the fightin' on land an' over sea;
Government — Government, what does it care — what does it care for me?
Bugles must blow an' flags must wave, an' the muffled drums must beat,
An' what to a lass is a lover when they lay him dead at her feet?
They'll never have done with the fightin'. Forward the columns sweep;
I hear the shout o' the captains as I tend the hearth an' weep.
Far off an' faint — but I hear it; an' a white, dead face I see
Under the sod in the grave that God an' government make for me!
His hair was like the raven's wing. (I joy that my lips have prest,
As it fell in its flowing beauty, this dark lock on my breast!)
An' his brave, bright eyes looked love to mine — the eyes I shall never see
'Till God at the great white Judgment Day shall give him back to me.
Bible they've got for battles: For men have fought an' died
Ere the Prince of Peace said strife should cease — the Prince that they crucified;
Though a woman's tears bedew the years, shall they stay the crimson tide?
What can you do with government, with Bible on its side?
Men must fight the battles; lover an' lass must part;
But what is a star of glory to a woman's broken heart?
Government's right, they tell me, an' the wrong must righted be:
Give the lass then to her lover — an' my dead love back to me!