Spectral Horse Poems No. 2: An Excerpt
In your film I will not paraded be,
Nor with my comrades replay our capture,
With wooden arms, and so instill rapture
In you, our congenital enemy.
By all means throw me in your pit, and let
The waters close and drown--I will not act,
Nor will they, for human pride is a fact,
Without which we are like the cringing pet.
It is our essence which proceeds from God,
Which against the able foe is measured,
In accord with correct usage of war.
But this beret I most of all treasure,
Which we all wear, and will for evermore,
Though it be our sore death countrymen laud.