Peace and war An Ode. By William Allingham. Reprinted, by permission, from the "Daily News." |
 |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. | VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
 | Peace and war |  |
VII.
O lovely Peace!Would thy maternal rule might never cease!
Sweet as to convalescent eyes
The beauty of the fields and skies,
Or wild birds' warble in his ear
Who prison sounds was used to hear,
Or spring amid the sands to one
Long tortured by the pitiless sun,
Or sail to wretches on a raft,
Or words of holy truth that waft
A breath of comfort to the soul
O'erwhelm'd with sin's despairing dole,—
So welcome, when thou 'rt gone awhile,
Are thy returning voice and smile,
O lovely Peace!
And yet we would not woo them back
9
Nor doze, dishonourably tame,
While pure and noble conscience went to wrack.
Rather let him, the wicked and abhorr'd,
More fiercely lift his torch and wave his dripping sword!
| Peace and war | |