My life has crept so long on a broken wing thing : blest, And spoke of a hope for the world in the coming wars— * 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. 2. And it was but a dream, yet it yielded a dear delight To have look’d, tho’ but in a dream, upon eyes so fair, That had been in a weary world my one thing bright; 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 throat 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 breath 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 shames, Horrible, hateful, monstrous, not to be told ; And hail once more to the banner of battle unrolld! Tho' many a light shall darken, and many shall weep For those that are crush'd in the clash of jarring claims, Yet God's just wrath shall be wreak’d on a giant liar; And many a darkness into the light shall leap, done, |