Friday Poetry Blogging

This one seemed appropriate for this week. In fact, I'd kind of like to tattoo it on Dubya's forehead, backwards. This is from the early 18th century. Funny how things don't change, ain't it?

Trail all your pikes, from All is Vanity
by Anne Finch, Countess of Winchilsea

Trail all your pikes, dispirit every drum,
March in a slow procession from afar,
Ye silent, ye dejected men of war!
Be still the hautboys, and the flute be dumb!
Display no more, in vain, the loftly banner.
For see! where on the bier before ye lies
The pale, the fall'n th'untimely sacrafice
To your mistaken shrine, to your false idol Honour!