Oh, happy dagger whose edges do bleed
as freely water does flow, do all who
hold you commit such treasonous foul deed
as this? Such treachery doth not ring true
i' th' eyes of the watchers and the wait,
though battle brings tremulous sighs to some.
If blood be the drink of the earthen hate,
then none shall feel thirst, save a peaceful one.
Murder breathes life into minds, then in hearts;
invigorating, though breaking away.
And bodies are hauled off in crimsoned carts
from just-widowed wives and children sans play.
If diff'rence be the provoke one must find
to war as such, make all deaf, still and blind.

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