- WAR
THESE, these are not the hours
For mention of sweet flowers,
Or for light whispers blown thro' brittle reeds.
The smoke of war's eclipse.
Rolls dark across love's lips,
Cypris is silent while Adonis bleeds.
So be it. It is so.
And yet while come and go
Sun, moon and stars, the old emotions waken
Which, while we breathe, we must
Feel thro' our human dust
Even tho' the pillars of the earth are shaken.
Oh hero hosts struck low,
That a new world may know,
Some rest from power, some escape from pride,
Faint over each dear head,
The shaméd gods must shed
Tears for the cruel pain in which you died.
Never quite as before,
Will spring come to our door —
A red stain lies upon love's tender star.
All born of human race,
Henceforth upon the place,
Where beats the heart must feel an aching scar.
In Nature's judgment-hall,
The gods are guilty all,
All who stood by and let these things be done.
New Hope the world may gain,
It is not worth the pain —
Not worth it! — of one torn and martyred one!
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1927.
The author died in 1963, so this work is also in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 50 years or less. This work may also be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works.