Page:The poems of Edmund Clarence Stedman, 1908.djvu/62

IN WAR TIME VII

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! war! war!

Manning of forts on land and ships for sea;

Innumerous lips that speak the righteous wrath

Of days which have been and again may be;

Flashing of tender eyes disdaining tears;

A pause of men with indrawn breath,

Knowing it awful for the people's will

Thus, thus to end the mellow years

Of harvest, growth, prosperity,

And bring the years of famine, fire, and death,

Though fear and a nation's shame are more awful still.

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War! war! war! A thundercloud in the South in the early Spring;—

The launch of a thunderbolt; and then,

With one red flare, the lightning stretched its wing,

And a rolling echo roused a million men!

Then the ploughman left his field;

The smith, at his clanging forge,

Forged him a sword to wield.

From meadow, and mountain-gorge,

And the Western plains, they came,

Fronting the storm and flame.

War! war! war!

Heaven aid the right!

God nerve the hero's arm in the fearful fight!

God send the women sleep, in the long, long night,

When the breasts on whose strength they leaned shall heave no more!

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