Topical Lyrics
Robert: Fitzgerald
Rifle fire out of the East- a bitter
Range in the red sun, leveler of all
And shadower of men on the low
hills
Greening above the mist: blue glacial shadows
Hollow to westward where the faces peer
On surgical terrains lit by the faint fire
Of spring and dawn and war:
Smoke drifting as a frost breath drifting
Home among the orchards: stir, encampments
Cia~
with soft metal in the vast
Azure of danger:
hushed on the hot ground
Where one man's crying mouth breaks stones
Leaves, dusty earth, and shuts up soaking:
J.o1ash at eye-lash, and the needle-bright bombers
Borne by scourging savagery of engines
In sensitive chevrons under purest cirrus
Drift and dream on:
II
We were never instructed in these quarrels.
The power and the inheritance were not ours,
Neither the whip-handle of any belted captain.
We fought against our fathers for our sport.
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