THOU gentle Dove! wing'd envoy to mankind Of that fair morn when war shall cease to be, Yet ever to thine Ark compell'd to flee, For nowhere can thy feet a foothold find. The air thou cleavest is with sulphur blind, While horrent shapes scud o'er the foamy sea, Which bristles with a monster progeny: The clash of arms is borne upon the wind. O when wilt thou return to tell of fields Ripening with plenty, whilst the smiling lands Are bound by fellowship of hearts and hands?——— No more the sword its bloody sceptre wields! Come to us from the realms where Heaven expands, And bring the leaf the tender olive yields! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A WINTER'S NIGHT by ROBERT FROST FOR OUR BETTER GRACES by JAMES GALVIN INDEPENDENCE DAY, 1956, A FAIRY TALE by JAMES GALVIN MY HAPPINESS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON SONNET TO THOSE WHO SEE BUT DARKLY by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TO RICHARD R. WRIGHT - INSTRUCTOR by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON BEAUTY THAT IS NEVER OLD by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON |