NOT ours to clamor shame on you, <br />Nor fling a bitter blame on you, <br />Nor brand a cruel name on you, <br />That evil name of treason, <br />You who have heard the ivory flutes, <br />Who float white banners, brave recruits <br />Of Peace, seeking to pluck her fruits <br />In bud and blossom season. <br />A sterner bugle calls to us; <br />More direful duty falls to us; <br />God grants no garden-walls to us <br />Till the scarred waste be delivered <br />From dragon passions that destroy <br />All sanctitudes of faith and joy; <br />We, too, are on divine employ; <br />By sword shall sword be shivered. <br />Cherish your bud, star-eyed of bloom, <br />Dawn-flower of hope, belied of gloom, <br />While, surges of the tide of doom, <br />The gathering nations thunder <br />Against a red, colossal throne; <br />Cherish it, that the seed be sown <br />At last even where that monstrous stone <br />Crushes life's roots asunder. <br />Follow your flutes the fairy way; <br />Wing-sandaled, climb the airy way, <br />The wonderful, unwary way, <br />Too lovely for derision; <br />While we, your comrades at the goal, <br />Step to the drum-beat and unroll <br />The flag of Freedom, every soul <br />Obedient to its vision.<br /><br />Katharine Lee Bates<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/soldiers-to-pacifists/
