I left my low and humble home, <br />Far from my Father's fields to roam. <br />My peaceful cot no more had charms, <br />My only joy was War's alarms. <br />I panted for the field of fight, <br />I gaz'd upon the deathless light, <br />Which o'er the Hero's grave is shed, <br />The glorious memory of the dead. <br />Ambition show'd a distant star, <br />That shed its radiance bright and far, <br />And pointed to a path which led <br />O'er heaps of dying and of dead; <br />Onward I press'd with eager feet, <br />And War's dread thunder still would greet <br />My reckless ears. Where'er I trod, <br />I saw the green and verdant sod, <br />Turn red with blood of slaughter'd foes, <br />And Fury veil'd in smoke arose. <br />I gain'd the envied height; and there, <br />I sigh'd for that lone cottage, where <br />The early hours of life flew by, <br />On wings of youthful ecstasy. <br />Too late I found that Glory's ray, <br />Could never bring one happy day.<br /><br />Nathaniel Hawthorne<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-low-and-humble-home/
