PEACE WITH A SWORD
Peace! How we love her and the good she brings
On broad, benignant wings!
And we have clung to her—how close and long,
While she has made us strong!
Now we must guard her lest her power cease,
And in the harried world be no more peace.
Even with a sword,
Help us, O Lord!
For us no patient peace, the weary goal
Of a war-sickened soul;
No peace that battens on misfortune's pain,
Swollen with selfish gain,
Bending slack knees before a calf of gold,
With nerveless fingers impotent to hold
The freeman's sword—
Not this, O Lord!
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