 | The Poems of Richard Watson Gilder |  |
IN TIMES OF PEACE
'T was said: “When roll of drum and battle's roar
Shall cease upon the earth, O, then no more
Shall cease upon the earth, O, then no more
“The deed, the race, of heroes in the land.”
But scarce that word was breathed when one small hand
But scarce that word was breathed when one small hand
Lifted victorious o'er a giant wrong
That had its victims crushed through ages long;
That had its victims crushed through ages long;
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Some woman set her pale and quivering face,
Firm as a rock, against a man's disgrace;
Firm as a rock, against a man's disgrace;
A little child suffered in silence lest
His savage pain should wound a mother's breast;
His savage pain should wound a mother's breast;
Some quiet scholar flung his gauntlet down
And risked, in Truth's great name, the synod's frown;
And risked, in Truth's great name, the synod's frown;
A civic hero, in the calm realm of laws,
Did that which suddenly drew a world's applause;
Did that which suddenly drew a world's applause;
And one to the pest his lithe young body gave
That he a thousand thousand lives might save.
That he a thousand thousand lives might save.
| The Poems of Richard Watson Gilder | |