It doesn’t matter what’s the cause, <br />What wrong they say we’re righting, <br />A curse for treaties, bonds and laws, <br />When we’re to do the fighting! <br />And since we lads are proud and true, <br />What else remains to do? <br />Lucasta, when to France your man <br />Returns his fourth time, hating war, <br />Yet laughs as calmly as he can <br />And flings an oath, but says no more, <br />That is not courage, that’s not fear— <br />Lucasta he’s a Fusilier, <br />And his pride sends him here. <br /> <br />Let statesmen bluster, bark and bray, <br />And so decide who started <br />This bloody war, and who’s to pay, <br />But he must be stout-hearted, <br />Must sit and stake with quiet breath, <br />Playing at cards with Death. <br />Don’t plume yourself he fights for you; <br />It is no courage, love, or hate, <br />But let us do the things we do; <br />It’s pride that makes the heart be great; <br />It is not anger, no, nor fear— <br />Lucasta he’s a Fusilier, <br />And his pride keeps him here.<br /><br />Robert Graves<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-lucasta-on-going-to-the-war-for-the-fourth-ti/
