June 2013 Pome


"... And what is so rare as a day in June?
Then, if ever, come perfect days."
– Lowell, "The Vision of Sir Launfal"

It is well, at such times, to remind us,
Of the trials so lately endured–
Not all blizzards and fogs lie behind us,
And sweet peace is but lightly secured.

Let's be sure that the rifles are loaded,
And the bayonets honed razor-keen,
For how oft has a crisis exploded
While the soldiers were at the canteen.

And our leaders–alas!--seem to waver,
Plowing this way and that, without aim,
Treating friends as though high in disfavor,
As our enemies smile at the game.

'Twas in June of 'fourteen, be it noted,
That an Austrian Archduke was slain–
Armies marched, declarations were voted,
And the world, from that hour, went insane.


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