A Plea

Why need we newer arms invent,

    Poor peoples to destroy?

With what we have let's be content

    And perfect their employ.

With weapons that may millions kill,

    Why should we seek for more,

A brighter spate of blood to spill,

    A deeper sea of gore?

    The lurid blaze of atom light

    Vast continents will blind,

And steep in centuries of night

    Despairing humankind.

So let's be glad for gun and blade,

    To fight with honest stuff:

Are tank, block-buster, hand-grenade

    And napalm not enough?

Oh to go back a thousand years

    When arrows winged their way,

When foemen fell upon the spears

    And swords were swung to slay!

Behold! Belching in Heaven black

    Mushrooms obscene!

Dear God, the brave days give us back,

              When wars were clean!