Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, PEACE AND WAR, by ELIZABETH SEWELL HILL



Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

PEACE AND WAR, by                    
First Line: Peace upon the wide-flung country-side
Last Line: Wanted—men!
Subject(s): Military Recruitment; War


Peace upon the wide-flung country-side.
Peace upon the rain-washed, spring-flushed tide
Of soft baby-grasses unafraid, untrod,
Lifting to the long hill's up-turned sod;
The little crooning country-roads that wind at will
To meet the stately highway. From the upper hill
The call to prayer. Soft and sweet and south
The breath of morning. At the gully's mouth
The bank slopes warm to the ringed-in pool
Where the stallion whinnies and the first black foal
Nuzzles for food. The sun shines down
On the bare wet woods banked deep in browns
Where the dead twig snaps and the first birds call
To the weathered rick at the further wall
Where the pasture ends, and the orchard trees
Beckon back home. The hum of bees
Comes from the long shed. The wood-smoke's blue
Twists over grey roofs calling to
The barn's red warmth, swept clean, swung wide—
Peace upon the whole sweet countryside.

Peace upon the spring-flushed, the smoke-grimed town;
Fringed and feathered column'd smoke, the portentous frown
Of Toil rapt, busied, giving heart and brain—
Back from the black mouths the red fires stain;
The long deep wet shaft, gloom on gloom;
The shining whirling mad machines, loom on loom;
But, back from forge and furnace comes the sure release,
And over shaft and over whirring bobbins, peace.

Peace upon the wave-swept, the tide-swung sea.
Peace upon the white sails spreading merrily.
Peace upon the great deeps. The tide's long flume
Flushes up the channel. The white salt spume
Eddies to the grey pier's wounded, weathered side;
Slips along the great hulls, sailing with the tide;
The heaving rocking merchantmen getting under weigh;
The little boats that slip between and scurry up the bay.
Peace upon the headlands with the sea-winds blowing free,
Peace upon the harbor-side and peace upon the sea.

Borne upon the dewy breath of early morning, War!
Crashing from the swift white wires comes the summons, War!
The stately highway rolling back to meet the little towns,
Calling up the hillslopes, the bare woodland browns,
The silent little country roads, the startled upper hill,
Across the straight black furrows to worn feet standing still—
The fallen plough at the furrough's end—the barn's wide store,
The stallion's plunge and whinney, the white face at the door!

Men—men—wanted—men!
Cavalry, infantry, scouts and spies;
Gunners, sappers—the mine's surprise;
Wagon-men and the sure supplies;
Wanted—men!

Bursting thro' the colum'd smoke, breaks the message, War!
Forge and furnace fires redden with the summons, War!
Down the long deep wet shaft darkens, gloom on gloom;
Swift the whirling sick machines rush, loom on loom;
Weft and shine of trappings, fittings—woof and dun of stress;
Plate, projectile, bore and pivot, volatile duress;
Lead and sulphur, rubber, copper, iron's molten crown—
Ugly, cruel, cataclysmic War upon the town.

Men—men—wanted—men!
Lever and level, flight and range;
Engineer, mechanician, charge and change;
Surveyor, signal-man, flash and exchange;
Wanted—men

Sounding down the great deeps, calling, calling, War!
Breaking from the harbor side comes the summons, War!
Calling from the wave-swept, the tide-swung sea,
Calling to the white sails spreading hastily;
Calling to the battle-fleets massing line on line,
Sister ships far over sea, trimming fit and fine;
Calling from the grey piers wounded, weathered side—
Dark hulls stored with contraband coming with the tide;
Fast war-loaded merchantmen getting under weigh;
Mine, torpedo, submarine, out and down the bay.
War upon the headlands with the sea-winds blowing free,
War upon the harbor-side and war upon the sea.

And,

Men—men—wanted—men!
Young men, clean men, the call's parade;
Dash and danger and the game up-played;
Swift, sufficient, and unafraid
Wanted—men!





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