The Warrior Children (On Watching A Cadet Corps March) My soul sighs for the warrior children Whose surging ranks assault the field, A mock of stormclouds swallowing sun In lichenous smears of green and black. These children play at war with vicious glee, Childish voices intoning murderous litanies Which teach their credulous brains to hate. In lockstep tread -- and lockstep thought -- An unfledged locust horde in camouflage, They swarm in feigned fury across the green, Nor note the brilliant jonquil by the tree. My soul sighs for the warrior children, Sighs for the warrior children -- and for me.