The second poem is another tip - toe through the Royalist camp, at the dawn of the English Civil War.
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For King and Country
Softly, at the waking hour, as sunrise paints her golden dawn;
as earth stirs from her icy slumber, hoar-frost clings to bramble thorn.
Upon the windows, frosty patterns... icy cobwebs, silken-fine,
compared to you, their beauty founders, gently slumbering love of mine.
Warm light creeping through the casement, steals to kiss you in your sleep,
slumber love, for l must go now... and l would not see you weep.
Sword brothers wait in stable yard, our steeds... impatient for the fray,
although l long to stay with you, my Duty calls... l must away.
Should fickle fate smile down on me, l shall return before the spring
bursts forth, across our Devonish vales. We ride to Edgehill for the King.
Had not this dam'ned war prevailed, so newly wed... l would not leave,
but, you have known me half my life, and know l must... although l grieve.
And, if fey providence strikes me down, describe me to our new-born son;
school him in principles l held, and, bid him not... sword buckle on.
l must away, l dare not tarry; one last, soft kiss washed with brine,
for l must to my destiny... so farewell, gentle love of mine.
When you awake, and find me gone; don't follow love... t' would not be wise,
for a tiny bird just cannot fly in a storm... however hard she tries.
Dream Weaver
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-englishcivil-war-poems-2/
