Their outbound sails have sped, 30
While she in meek humility,
Now earns her daily bread.
It is their prayers which never cease,
That clothe her with such grace:
Their blessing is the light of peace, 35
That shines upon her face.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.
CCLXXVII
IN WAR TIME.
The flags of war like storm-birds fly,