Did all the lets and bars appear <br />To every just or larger end, <br />Whence should come the trust and cheer? <br />Youth must its ignorant impulse lend - <br />Age finds place in the rear. <br />All wars are boyish, and are fought by boys, <br />The champions and enthusiasts of the state: <br />Turbid adors and vain joys <br />Not barrenly abate - <br />Stimulants to the power mature, <br />Preparatives of fate. <br /> <br />Who here forecasteth the event? <br />What heart but spurns at precedent <br />And warnings of the wise, <br />Contemned foreclosures of surprise? <br />The banners play, the bugles call, <br />The air is blue and prodigal. <br />No berrying party, pleasure-wooed, <br />No picnic party in the May, <br />Ever went less loth than they <br />Into that leafy neighborhood. <br />In Bacchic glee they file toward Fate, <br />Moloch's uninitiate; <br />Expectancy, and glad surmise <br />Of battle's unknown mysteries, <br />All they feel is this: 'tis glory, <br />A rapture sharp, though transitory, <br />Yet lasting in belaureled story. <br />So they gayly go to fight, <br />Chanting left and laughing right. <br /> <br />But some who this blithe mood present, <br />As on in lightsome files they fare, <br />Shall die experienced ere three days are spent - <br />Perish, enlightened by the vollied glare; <br />Or shame survive, and, like to adamant, <br />The throe of Second Manassas share.<br /><br />Herman Melville<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-march-into-viriginia/
