At length when the war's at an end And we're just ourselves,—you and I, And we gather our lives up to mend, We, who've learned how to live and to die: Shall we think of the old ambition For riches, or how to grow wise, When, like Lazarus freshly arisen, We've the presence of Death in our eyes? Shall we dream of our old life's passion,— To toil for our heart's desire, Whose souls War has taken to fashion With molten death and with fire? I think we shall crave the laughter Of the wind through trees gold with the sun, When our strife is all finished,—after The carnage of War is done. Just these things will then seem worth while:— How to make Life more wondrously sweet, How to live with a song and a smile, How to lay our lives at Love's feet. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SHANNON AND THE CHESAPEAKE [JUNE 1, 1813] by THOMAS TRACY BOUVE EROS by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES OUT OF THE OLD HOUSE, NANCY by WILLIAM MCKENDREE CARLETON THE FIRE OF DRIFTWOOD; DEVEREUX FARM, NEAR MARBLEHEAD by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THEN AND NOW by JEAN JACQUES ANTOINE AMPERE IN VINCULIS; SONNETS WRITTEN IN AN IRISH PRISON: DEEDS MIGHT HAVE BEEN by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT WIND OF THE SOUTH by JENNIE MCBRIDE BUTLER THE BUSTS OF GOETHE AND SCHILLER IN WALHALLA by WILLIAM ALLEN BUTLER A LETTER FROM OCTAVIA: TO THE LADY MARGARET, COUNTESS OF CUMBERLAND by SAMUEL DANIEL |