SPRUCE officer! upon my word, With air and elegance complete You carry your steel-hilted sword; But -- I muse on our late defeat. Your regimentals have a set Quite perfect, and no little cost; You're altogether charming, yet Upon the battlefield we lost. In your black eyes with pencilled brows We see the fire of valour waken; Your dainty gloves the world allows, But--our two provinces are taken. All youths are proud of trappings gay, And you like others were created; Yet mark--'twas only yesterday Our fatherland was mutilated. Do you, young subaltern, I ask, Finger on brow and lamp alight, Make book and maps your worthy task, And study far into the night? Say, do your men their duty learn From you? Are they your friends and care? Fain would I think it so, and turn From doubts, which drive me to despair. Beats a true heart beneath your lace, Intent on our deliverance? Your hand, young man! if such the case, And let us shout hurrah for France. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LAST WORDS TO A DUMB FRIEND by THOMAS HARDY A DOUBLE STANDARD by FRANCES ELLEN WATKINS HARPER A FIESOLAN IDYL by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR THE ONE GRAY HAIR by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR POEMS ON THE SLAVE TRADE: 6 by ROBERT SOUTHEY THE AGE OF WISDOM by WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY |