Page:Armistice Day.djvu/244

222 Again from its old grief,

Looks up, athirst

And hungering,

Daring to dream again

Of flowers unhurt, and unstained rain

And love and spring:

Knowing that she shall build each place accurst

Into a thing that may some day again

Be our once land of comfort and delight,

Of ease and mockery...

Even forgetfulness:

Even the gift to bless.

Victory paces slowly through the lands:

No lash is in her hands,

She builds herself no triumph-arch for cover,

No common marble toy—

She is too great for joy.

She who upbuilds

Each little shattered home

And brings men back to it: and lover gives to lover,

And to the shattered soul its faith again,

And to the world continuance of God—

How should our praise for her

In high-crowned buildings stand—oh, how be pent

In built or written thing?

The stable world itself is her great monument!