I THOUGHT of war. I saw this verdant land, Where gardens spread and wheat-fields waving lay, Flash like the fire of storms. Fair cities by the hand Of unseen monsters in an instant born Are blood-bespattered, black and torn. I choked with fumes of war, and heard all day The cries of dying. I dared not step lest low My palsied foot should crush some form below. Just dead or voiceless in its agony. The booming guns spake like the warrior breasts With burning madness to destroy; and shell Came like their curses, scathing where they fell. The lowering heavens, yea, the farther sky. The demon with his legions there infests ; I'he tortured air shrieks wild beneath their wings. The sea is slashed with lance and scourge and stings Of devil-might, till nature sick with blood Shudders and bewails. War, thou blight And thing of Hell ! oh may thy wing refuse To cast its shadow here ! Yon tidal flood Is peaceful, and the fleet that thither sails. Has happy errand ; and the seas are bright With sunshine. Every year the summer-hues Refresh these peaceful hearts ; but thy fell breath Brings all the awfulness of torturing death ; And every sign of peace which toil doth raise Falls like the grain before the running blaze.
