Bittersweet Lament

We must build a man, my son
A strong and vibrant one,
With bones enriched with calcium
To bleach white in the sun.

We must build a man, my son
A healthy, stalwart man...
Whose blood is rich and red and ripe
To paint some far-off sand.

Yes, we must give the best, my son
The "lead sheep' of our fold.
So clean your plate and drain your cup
Try not to catch a cold

For we must build a man, my son
With serums, vitamins and oil
For the blood you shed must be the best
That e'er darkened foreign soil!

poem by Charlotte Harrison
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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