The horror down, as faithful-hearted drew
The sad clouds from their carnage, and up-piled
Their rebel gonfalons, or jocund threw
Their cannon in the wave;
And subtly, with a parting whisper, gave
An eve most mild:
A sunset like a prayer, a world all rose and blue.
A good world, as it was,
And as it shall be: clear circumferent space,
Where punctual yet, for worship of their Cause,