“Tears may be ours, but proud for those who win
Death’s royal purple in the enemy’s lines.
Peace, too, brings tears, and ‘mid the battle din,
The wiser ear some text of God divines.
For the sheathed blade may rust with darker sin.
“God give us peace, not such as lulls to sleep,
But sword on thigh and brow with purpose knit
And let our Ship of State to harbor sweep,
Her ports all up, her battle lanterns lit
And her hushed thunders gathering for their leap.