POEM ON WAR BY BENJAMIN FRANKLIN’S RELATIVE
Believe me, Ben, it is a dangerous trade
The sword has many marred as well as made
By it many do fall – not many rise
Makes many poor, few rich and fewer wise
Fill towns with ruin, fields with blood decide
Tis sloth’s maintainer and the shield of pride
Fair cities rich today in plenty flow
War filled with want tomorrow and with woe
Ruined estates, the nurse of vice
Broken limbs and scars
Are the effects of desolating wars
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