Hung lucent as a cloud in the bright air,
Still to be won: O thus, even thus, we seek
Peace beyond War! and thus the Vision gleams
Upon us battling, that snow-crest sublime,
That holy mountain, that pure crown of dreams,
Toward which Man’s soul has struggled up through Time.
In blood and sweat we war that War may cease;
And storming the last peak, we conquer Peace.
ROOSEVELT, 1919
How shall we say “God rest him!”