Edgehill Fight


        NAKED and gray the Cotswolds stand
            Beneath the summer sun,
        And the stubble fields on either hand
            Where Sour and Avon run.
        There is no change in the patient land
            That has bred us every one.

        She should have passed in cloud and fire
            And saved us from this sin
        Of war--red war--'twixt child and sire,
            Household and kith and kin,
        In the heart of a sleepy Midland shire,
            With the harvest scarcely in.

        But there is no change as we meet at last
            On the brow-head or the plain,
        And the raw astonished ranks stand fast
            To slay or to be slain
        By the men they knew in the kindly past
            That shall never come again--

        By the men they met at dance or chase,
            In the tavern or the hall,
        At the justice bench and the market place,
            At the cudgel play or brawl--
        Of their own blood and speech and race,
            Comrades or neighbours all!

        More bitter than death this day must prove
            Whichever way it go,
        For the brothers of the maids we love
            Make ready to lay low
        Their sisters' sweethearts, as we move
            Against our dearest foe.

        Thank Heaven! At last the trumpets peal
            Before our strength gives way.
        For King or for the Commonweal--
            No matter which they say,
        The first dry rattle of new-drawn steel
            Changes the world today!

            Rudyard Kipling