SONNET.—PEACE.
Benign thy sacred influence, golden Peace!
Even desert lands beneath thy magic sway
Would smile once more. Fields, fruitful, now repay
The reaper for his toil, by rich increase;
War’s captive but beholds thee, and his chain,
As by some charm, dissolves, to set him free;
Homes, erewhile silent, desolate, by thee
Made glad, with joyous notes resound again—
Soft is the feeling thy calm visit spreads