A torrid love, a fatal unthought glance.

War  starts when  the   rulers each believe
By spying,watching ,calculating chance
They ‘ll gain  more wealth  or land than now received

Can we humans  give or get relief,
Or must we gain  our damned revenge  at once?
Will we gain  more gold  than now received?

The working men  obediently deceived
Or took excessive joy from polished lance
They too from promised payments were  bereaved

The  leaders think that honour  heals all grief
They see no more of trenches than a glance
They   often gain  more   wealth   than  humble thieves

The soldiers who  hang back are  felled  like leaves
The generals  have that overbearing stance
They   from   final payments aren’t  bereaved

An accident,a shot, unhappy chance;
A torrid love, a fatal unthought glance.
War  can start when  rulers   force belief
They ‘ll take another’s goodness  unbereaved