"Lives Greece less nobly in her Parthenon,
In what her Solons wrote, her poets sang,
Than in the gastly pride of Marathon,
And kindred fields where victors' praises rang?
"And we, enriched thro' Commerce, Letters, Art,
Forgot our earlier grievances and scars,
Are we not ready for a better part?
Have we not now outgrown our need of wars?
"Surely it should be so," he made reply;
"The sated earth cries out against the flow
Of human blood: 'How long? how long?' The cry
Must pierce the heavens from writhing hearts below.
"But men heed not; the glamor and the gain
Of warfare blind them to its sin and pain;
They know not pity and they count not cost
Till armies meet and life and cause are lost.
"Would they but listen 'twere an errand blest
To plead against oppressor for oppressed;
Would they but follow it were joy indeed
Up the white hills of truth and peace to lead.
"But, ah! the multitudes are gone astray,
The powerful of the earth will have their way;
What profit, sister, in our prayers and tears?
Why mar the spring-time gladness of our years
"In vain pursuit of universal good?
In fruitless care for earth's vast brotherhood?
Glad would I grasp such work could I but see.
Or near, or far, your hoped-for victory."
"Whether they hear," she answered, "or forbear,
'Tis ours with signal truths to light the skies;
God's promises and warnings to declare;—
How can men follow if no leader rise?
"The Christ shall be the victor; O my friend,
Why do we limit His almighty power
Who sees from far beginning to the end?
Whose day may be an æon or an hour?
"The sea is His; He made it; and His word
Can speak its wildest tumult into calm;
As He may will its deepest founts are stirred,
Or surface-ripples breathe a praiseful psalm.