Then ping! ping! ping! ’tis the wrathful warrior’s wrong.
I red in the heart of the foe,
Fulfilling the warrior’s woe.
But this I see before I go—
A beauty blackening battle’s show;
Pictures of home in heart and brain
That blot and blank in my war’s refrain.
A bearded peasant and Tolstoy’s book,
Fulfilling the Christ’s great way of peace,
His neighbors, dear as the ripened year;