Page:The poems of Richard Watson Gilder, Gilder, 1908.djvu/432

404 Was ever secret misery confest

To such grim audience!

O hapless fate

For this sweet girl, and for her guiltier mate.

Powers of the world, and O, ye Powers Unseen,

Be stern, yet be ye kind! Let be the ends

Of justice served; but hold a shield between

Souls and the smiting sword. O, make amends

In the oncoming years, or some far age.

They are but caught in Nature's deathless rage;

The fire that in their bodies burned doth hold

The sun in heaven; part is it of the force

That keeps the stars each on its mystic course,

While the all-changing universe grows never old.

"IN THE CITIES"

I

the cities no longer the blaring of trumpets that summon to battle,

From splendid towers the banners flash not forth in the breeze,

No longer the ringing of war-bells, and the clattering sound of horsemen,

The clangor of sword on shield, nor the cries of the feudal fighters

Hurrying into the streets to strike with bullet and steel;

Clamoring, battering down; assailing high walls and towers;

Rushing maddened, furious, to the killing of fellow-men.

II

Yet still a clangor of bells and a loud, shrill whistling and shouting,