"We... who are but weasels fighting in a hole..."
by William Butler Yeats
1919
...All teeth were drawn, all ancient tricks unlearned,
And a great army but a showy thing;
What matter that no cannon had been turned
Into a ploughshare? Parliament and king
thought that unless a little powder burned
The trumpeteers might burst with trumpeting
And yet it lacked all glory; and perchance
The guardsmen's drowsy chargers would not prance.
Now days are dragon-ridden, the nightmare
Rides upon sleep: a drunken soldierly
Can leave the mother, murdered at her door,
To crawl in her blood, and go scot-free;
The night can sweat with terror as before
We pieced our thought into philosophy,
And planned to bring the world under a rule,
Who are but weasels fighting in a hole...
William Butler Yeats
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...All teeth were drawn, all ancient tricks unlearned, And a great army but a showy thing; What matter that no cannon had been turned Into a ploughshare? Parliament and king thought that unless a little powder burned The trumpeteers might burst with trumpeting And yet it lacked all glory; and perchance The guardsmen's drowsy chargers would not prance.
Now days are dragon-ridden, the nightmare William Butler Yeats |