He earned his bread by making wooden soldiers, With beautiful golden instruments, Riding dapple-grey horses. But when he heard the fanfare of trumpets And the long rattle of drums As the army marched out of the city, He took all his soldiers And burned them in the grate; And that night he fashioned a ballet-dancer Out of tinted tissue-paper, And the next day he started to carve a Piet?? On the steel hilt Of a cavalry sword | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNET: 17. TO SIR HENRY VANE THE YOUNGER by JOHN MILTON AN OLD SWEETHEART [OF MINE] by JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY WHAT TOMAS AN BUILE SAID IN A PUB by JAMES STEPHENS A CONNOISSEUR by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN |