Saw I your gait and saw I your sinewy limbs clothed in blue, bearing weapons, robust year, Heard your determinâd voice launchâd forth again and again, Year that suddenly sang by the mouths of the round-lippâd cannon, I repeat you, hurrying, crashing, sad, distracted year.
Beat! beat! drums!â âblow! bugles! blow! Through the windowsâ âthrough doorsâ âburst like a ruthless force, Into the solemn church, and scatter the congregation, Into the school where the scholar is studying; Leave not the bridegroom quietâ âno happiness must he have now with his bride, Nor the peaceful farmer any peace, ploughing his field or gathering his grain, So fierce you whirr and pound you drumsâ âso shrill you bugles blow.