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And spoke of a hope for the world in the coming


'And in that hope, dear soul, let trouble have rest, Knowing I tarry for thee,' and pointed to Mars As he glow'd like a ruddy shield on the Lion's breast.


And it was but a dream, yet it yielded a dear


To have look'd, tho' but in a dream, upon eyes so


That had been in a weary world my one thing


And it was but a dream, yet it lighten'd my despair When I thought that a war would arise in defence

of the right,

That an iron tyranny now should bend or cease,

The glory of manhood stand on his ancient height, Nor Britain's one sole God be the millionnaire :

No more shall commerce be all in all, and Peace
Pipe on her pastoral hillock a languid note,
And watch her harvest ripen, her herd increase,
Nor the cannon-bullet rust on a slothful shore,

And the cobweb woven across the cannon's


Shall shake its threaded tears in the wind no more.


And as months ran on and rumour of battle grew, 'It is time, it is time, O passionate heart,' said I (For I cleaved to a cause that I felt to be pure and true),

'It is time, O passionate heart and morbid eye,
That old hysterical mock-disease should die.'

And I stood on a giant deck and mix'd my
With a loyal people shouting a battle cry,

Till I saw the dreary phantom arise and fly


Far into the North, and battle, and seas of death.



Let it go or stay, so I wake to the higher aims
Of a land that has lost for a little her lust of gold,

And love of a peace that was full of wrongs and shames,

Horrible, hateful, monstrous, not to be told;

And hail once more to the banner of battle unroll'd!

Tho' many a light shall darken, and many shall weep For those that are crush'd in the clash of jarring


Yet God's just wrath shall be wreak'd on a giant


And many a darkness into the light shall leap,

And shine in the sudden making of splendid names,

And noble thought be freër under the sun,

And the heart of a people beat with one desire ;

For the peace, that I deem'd no peace, is over and


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And now by the side of the Black and the Baltic


And deathful-grinning mouths of the fortress,


The blood-red blossom of war with a heart of fire.


Let it flame or fade, and the war roll down like

a wind,

We have proved we have hearts in a cause, we are

noble still,

And myself have awaked, as it seems, to the better


It is better to fight for the good, than to rail at

the ill;

I have felt with my native land, I am one with my


I embrace the purpose of God, and the doom


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