The foolishness of war

Oh, the foolishness of war -
will no-one ever see?
And fighting, stupid squabbles -
cannot all men be free?
Why, oh why, must human minds
be so locked constantly
in bitter conflict of views?
Will peace there never be?

What is, ideologically,
the ultimate for man?
When will it be realised
that there is nothing can
bring peace by forced oppression?
Or does the fool who ran
from war make bombs and bullets?
No - yet does the wise man.

How much more wise is foolish
the world will never know
than all the brains of wisdom,
that men of knowledge show
is unrivalled in prowess
to cause eternal woe?
When will love which I await
on Earth from all men flow?

If I could ask the apple
or the lilac’s fragrance
whose butterflies flutter
in happy cadence,
if I could ask of these my friends
what they would with flagrance
found in knowledgeable men,
would they speak with reverence?

And how would answer crickets -
"Consult our friends the bees"?
Primroses and rockeries -
who dares to trample these?
Swallows diving over streams
and sad old willow trees -
what man would blast asunder
their willingness to please?

What can there then to know be
that men might reach the door
of sanity and reason
that hate should be no more
spread abroad, to children taught,
unleashed upon the poor?
Oh, will no-one ever see
the foolishness of war?