MILD is the air of April, Gentle the sky above, And the budding and the mating Call for a song of love; But the season on my singing Has lost its olden spell Because of a shame and sorrow Men close their eyes to tell. I see but the tears of women In the rain of the springtime flood; I cannot brook the flowers -- They only smell of blood. Sad is the playground frolic -- Its joy and laughter melt In the moan of children sobbing From jungle and from veldt. O ye in the halls of council, You may conquer the distant foe, But still before a higher court Your needless wars must go. Too much you ask of silence; Too fierce the iron heel. Because one statesman blundered Must every heart be steel? O Britain! O Columbia! Too much of sodden strife. Back to the banished gospel -- The sacredness of life! Else shall our ties of language And law and race and fame Be naught to the bond that binds us In one eternal shame. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FALL OF RICHMOND [APRIL, 1865] by HERMAN MELVILLE ON SEEING BLENHEIM CASTLE by LUCY AIKEN EMBLEMS OF LOVE: 6. FAIR AND SOFTLY by PHILIP AYRES PSALM 95 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE BURIAL AT SEA by JESSIE GODDARD BROMAN THE DISCARD by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON THREE EPISTLES TO G. LLOYD ON A PASSAGE FROM HOMER'S ILIAD: 3 by JOHN BYROM THE PROCTORSVILLE AND WINDSOR, VERMONT, STAGE by DANIEL LEAVENS CADY |