Dear Friend, methinks when thus thy plenary soul <br />Speaks from yon pale default that lies so low, <br />The hale and stalwart by thy couch must know <br />Such fond intoleration to be whole <br />As he, who, where the storms of battle roll, <br />Himself unthrown beholds the cannon throw <br />His father at his feet, and, while a woe <br />Of splendid shame dements him to that sole <br />Passion, above the fallen field looks round <br />The red conversion of the baptized ground <br />For aught whereon to spend his sanguine wealth <br />And, seeking not the value but the cost, <br />Rushes to win whatever, won or lost, <br />May end this gross unwounded infamy of health.<br /><br />Sydney Thompson Dobell<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/on-reading-a-dictacted-letter/
