War and Peace

The wild-geese rose upon the wing
Rustling and napping as they left in haste.
So once our men went to the wars,
To toil and moil in wilderness and waste.
Unhappy men! and yet unhappier they
Who here remained, the widowed and the grey.

The wild-geese rose upon the wing,
But rest from flight they found upon the mere.
Our men-folk now build up our walls,
And all at once a hundred roods they rear.
Though toiling still and labouring past their strength,
Yet homes we now shall have, and peace at length.

The wild-geese rose upon the wing,
With lamentable cry as if distressed.
It was this wise and prudent One
Who spoke of us as toilers and oppressed.
And it was he, the man of little sense,
Who spoke of our unbounded insolence!