Classic and Contemporary Poetry
PEACE ON THE TREATY IN SOUTH AFRICA IN 1902, by FRANCIS THOMPSON Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: Peace: - as a dawn that flares Last Line: Let these, that speak not, be the loudest heard! Subject(s): Boer War; Peace; South African War | ||||||||
PEACE: -- as a dawn that flares Within the brazier of the barred East, Kindling the ruinous walls of storm surceased To rent and roughened glares, After such night when lateral wind and rain Torment the to-and-fro perplexed trees With thwart encounter; which, of fixture strong, Take only strength from the endured pain: And throat by throat begin The birds to make adventure of sweet din, Till all the forest prosper into song: -- Peace, even such a peace, (O be my words an auspice!) dawns again Upon our England, from her lethargies Healed by that baptism of her cleansing pain. Ended, the long endeavour of the land: Ended, the set of manhood towards the sand Of thirsty death; and their more deadly death, Who brought back only what they fain had lost, No more worth-breathing breath, -- Gone the laborious and use-working hand. Ended, the patient drip of women's tears, Which joined the patient drip of faithful blood To make of blood and water the sore flood That pays our conquest's costliest cost. This day, if fate dispose, Shall make firm friends from firm and firm-met foes. And now, Lord, since Thou hast upon hell's floor Bound, like a snoring sea, the blood-drowsed bulk of War, Shall we not cry, on recognising knees, This is Thy peace? If, England, it be but to lay The heavy head down, the old heavy way; Having a space awakened and been bold To break from them that had thee in the snare, -- Resume the arms of thy false Dalila, Gold, Shameful and nowise fair: Forget thy sons who have lain down in bed With Dingaan and old dynasties, nor heed The ants that build their empires overhead; Forget their large in thy contracted deed, And that thou stand'st twice-pledged to being great For whom so many children greatly bleed, Trusting thy greatness with their deaths: if thou, England, incapable of proffered fate, See in such deaths as these But purchased pledges of unhindered mart, And hirelings spent that in thy ringed estate For some space longer now Thou mayst add gain to gain, and take thine ease, -- God has made hard thy heart; Thou hast but bought thee respite, not surcease. Lord, this is not Thy peace! But wilt thou, England, stand With vigilant heart and prescient brain? -- Knowing there is no peace Such as fools deem, of equal-balanced ease: -- That they who build the State Must, like the builders of Jerusalem, The trowel in their hand, Work with the sword laid ever nigh to them. If thou hold Honour worthy gain At price of gold and pain; And all thy sail and cannon somewhat more Than the fee'd watchers of the rich man's store. If thou discern the thing which all these ward Is that imperishable thing, a Name, And that Name, England, which alone is lord Where myriad-armed India owns with awe A few white faces; uttered forth in flame Where circling round the earth Has English battle roared; Deep in mid-forest African a Law; That in this Name's small girth The treasure is, thy sword and navies guard: If thou wilt crop the specious sins of ease, Whence still is War's increase, -- Proud flesh which asks for War, the knife of God, Save to thyself, thyself use cautery; Wilt stay the war of all with all at odd, And teach thy jarring sons Truth innate once, -- That in the whole alone the part is blest and great. O should this fire of war thus purge away The inveterate stains of too-long ease, And yield us back our Empire's clay Into one shoreless State Compact and hardened for its uses: these No futile sounds of joyance are to-day; -- Lord, unrebuked we may Call this Thy peace! And in this day be not Wholly forgot They that made possible but shall not see Our solemn jubilee. Peace most to them who lie Beneath unnative sky; In whose still hearts is dipt Our reconciling script: Peace! But when shouts shall start the housetop bird, Let these, that speak not, be the loudest heard! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A WIFE IN LONDON by THOMAS HARDY THE SOULS OF THE SLAIN by THOMAS HARDY RANK AND FILE by HENRY AUSTIN DOBSON AT THE WAR OFFICE, LONDON by THOMAS HARDY SONG OF THE SOLDIERS' WIVES AND SWEETHEARTS by THOMAS HARDY THE COLONEL'S SOLILOQUY by THOMAS HARDY ARAB LOVE SONG by FRANCIS THOMPSON |
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