A Utilitarian View Of TheMonitor'sFight

Plain be the phrase, yet apt the verse,     More ponderous than nimble;     For since grimed War here laid aside     His Orient pomp, 'twould ill befit         Overmuch to ply     The rhyme's barbaric cymbal.     Hail to victory without the gaud     Of glory; zeal that needs no fans     Of banners; plain mechanic power     Plied cogently in War now placed--         Where War belongs--     Among the trades and artisans.     Yet this was battle, and intense--     Beyond the strife of fleets heroic;     Deadlier, closer, calm 'mid storm;     No passion; all went on by crank,         Pivot, and screw,     And calculations of caloric.     Needless to dwell; the story's known.     The ringing of those plates on plates     Still ringeth round the world--     The clangor of that blacksmiths' fray.         The anvil-din     Resounds this message from the Fates:     War shall yet be, and to the end;     But war-paint shows the streaks of weather;     War yet shall be, but warriors     Are now but operatives; War's made         Less grand than Peace,     And a singe runs through lace and feather.