Synopses & Reviews
Synopsis
Excerpt from Rimes in Olive Drab
God of might, give me the force of an arm Strong enough to wither when I strike; God of right, keep me freed from harm That I may die as I should like.
I ask no craven's freedom from the toll Of the legions marching towards the night, But when my name is added to the scroll, Grant I have struck and struck with might.
God of might, save me from a weakling's spleen, Give me the chance to strike as does a man Not as a cog in a drilled machine, But in single fury as a freeman can.
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