His care-free swagger was a fine invention:
Life was to slow, too regular, too grave.
With horse and sword he drew the girls' attention,
A conquering hero, bountiful and brave,
To whom teen-agers looked for liberation:
At his command they left behind their mothers,
Their wits were sharpened by the long migration,
His camp-fires taught them all the horde were brothers.
Till what he came to do was done: unwanted,
Grown seedy, paunchy, pouchy, disappointed,
He took to drink to screw his nerves to murder,
Or sat in offices and stole,
Boomed at his children about Law and Order,
And hated life with heart and soul.
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