Shaft

War, facing down the earth to tithe its quantities of youth, its mirth, its stride! Does take the best, while blinking satisfied, the soul resolve of faith becomes deride. My love then, do we fight to focus mew acquainting how we fare, in strength's adieu. I say the more, begone - the less of you still lancing, yet still live for thy own view. Which fares the better, love or war then due, when each is turned away, without renew. And men do leave their faith to fault anew, while love remembers hope in peace's askew! Some binding must remain, to see it through the course in thee, so blinding with no clue. Thee leave, but love not haltingly review where waiting stood its choice, but loving you! The grace to change for good, benigns a draft - War, by tradition bends ... then breaks the shaft!