Nationalism, By Jingo!
Between green fields of the Somme and Flanders
All those young officers and other ranks,
Most civilians in uniform, thanks
To a populist conceit that panders
To national myths and visceral sentiment,
Illusions of sovereignty wrapped in flags
The perfidious politician snags
The heart strings of all those who blindly vent
Their discontents without any vision
Of how matters might be. But, lines on maps
Too often become battle lines, with saps
Filled by the dead. Come moments of decision,
How lots are cast determine gains or losses,
Greener fields, or rank on rank of crosses.
D. A.
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