I count this thing to be grandly true:
That a noble deed is a step toward God,--
Lifting the soul from the common clod
To a purer air and a broader view.
J.G. HOLLAND.
THE BATTLE OF BLENHEIM.
Have you been to Woodstock, near Oxford, England? If so, you have seen
the palace of the Duke of Marlborough, who won the battle of Blenheim.
The main point of the poem is the doubtful honour in killing in our
great wars. Southey, the poet, lived from 1774 to 1843.
It was a summer's evening,
Old Kaspar's work was done,
And he before his cottage door
Was sitting in the sun;
And by him sported on the green
His little grandchild Wilhelmine.
She saw her brother Peterkin
Roll something large and round,
Which he, beside the rivulet,
In playing there, had found.
He came to ask what he had found,
That was so large, and smooth, and round.
Old Kaspar took it from the boy,
Who stood expectant by;
And then the old man shook his head,
And, with a natural sigh,
"'Tis some poor fellow's skull," said he,
"Who fell in the great victory!
"I find them in the garden,
For there's many hereabout;
And often when I go to plow,
The plowshare turns them out;
For many thousand men," said he,
"Were slain in that great victory!"
"Now tell us what 'twas all about,"
Young Peterkin he cries;
And little Wilhelmine looks up
With wonder-waiting eyes;
"Now tell us all about the war,
And what they killed each other for.
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