The slaughter-bugles screamed once more, Over the patchwork lands of men, And scattered, sword-hewn empires tore Each other's greedy hearts again— One with a black and boastful greed, Seeking a red supremacy; The other with a mumbled creed That it was armed to make men free. Each steppe and pampa woke to flame And joined the berserker advance; From wild forgotten roads they came, For the world's roads all led to France. And now no more the hail of steel Tortures the lines of brown and gray. ... The brief, joy-mad processions reel And drop ... and it is peace, men say. Peace? When wherever men are found The victors cry, "But just so free!" And reddened banners spring from the ground For freer red supremacy. ... A hollow shell of victory, With war still writhing at its heart; A clipped and gelded liberty, Striving to force its chains apart! Yet solvent love is not too far, If men grow wise, or mobs stay kind; And we could calm this troubled star, Its singing rapture unconfined. Now take your choice, O you who hoard Frail-fingered power, weak lordly breath: Young freedom, or the age-scarred sword, Which leaves no peace on earth—but death. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ODE TO SPRING by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD LONG ISLAND SOUND by EMMA LAZARUS ON CHLORIS WALKING IN THE SNOW by WILLIAM STRODE LOVE IN A COTTAGE by NATHANIEL PARKER WILLIS PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 47. AL-HAKIM by EDWIN ARNOLD |