UNDER this shade of crimson wings abhorred That never wholly leaves the sky serene, -- While Vengeance sleeps a sleep so light, between Dominions that acclaim Thee overlord, -- Sadly the blast of Thy tremendous word, Whate'er its mystic purport may have been, Echoes across the ages, Nazarene: @3Not to bring peace Mine errand, but a sword.@1 For lo, Thy world uprises and lies down In armour, and its Peace is War, in all Save the great death that weaves War's dreadful crown: War unennobled by heroic pain: War without triumph, without glorious fall; War that sits smiling, with the eyes of Cain. |