Page:Myrtle and Myrrh.djvu/27

 What will these kings and war-lords of the land

And all their ministers of murder fell

Do with their arms and fleets—all tools of hell—

If every son of man resolve to stand

A-wielding, king-like, in his home the wand,

Beside the ones he loves and honors well?

Can force this gentle host of peace compel,

When loving hearts their amber wings expand?

O love, though hounded, outlawed we may be—

Though Slander, dagger-drawn, be on our trail—

Though Hatred with her hydra tongues should rail

At us, and though left sinking in the sea

Of ostracism, ay, never will I quail,

But will now and forever cling to thee.