A satire To War

A SATIRE TO WAR

The warlike muses sang their mournful dirge,
Shot worn arrows at the earthly throng,
For men had learnt their lesson it seemed,
Peace in all her radience beneath,
E`re all the world that men seem to detest,
For every now and then they do their best,
To wreak it all or kill who are loved best,
Each mighty living beast a nation`s self,
No nation would believe that they were beasts,
Who each do revel in each others woe,
As wartime honours they lavishly bestow,
They for a moment think it but a game,
Declaration of war so loudly do acclaim,
These self same people quickly learn to rue,
With diverse means of torture death and pain,
Would they but stop and think or listen too,
The wise lonely wisdom of the few,
Who realise that war is not a game but vain,
Wishes of the few who laugh and live to gain.