Classic Poem

When wars are done,
And when the splendour of the setting sun
Goes down serenely on a quiet shore,
Whose faithful tides for evermore
Bring in the memory
Of those who died that life might be:
When we are grown so tender and so brave,
That on a bitter grave
We lay forgiveness, garlanded
With love and pity, for the alien dead,
Grieving that they were cruel once and blind,
Praying that in Thy Light their eyes may find
The vision of a world that still can be,
A kinship such as neither they nor we
Dreamed in the old unshriven days.
Yea, when divided ways
Are one,
A grander world begun:
When love and tears and laughter are grown deep
As sacraments, and Mercies never sleep
But watch and mourn the dead
Where they lie comforted:
And when the heart's warm rain
Falls on the blessed grain
Of Brotherhood, when eager sowers fling
It lavishly and far, that it may spring
In harvests sweet and wide
Whose thrilling sheaves are tied
By hands once enemied:
When all of this shall be,
Then, then a second Calvary
Shall rise; the Mount whereon the price
Of deathless peace is laid, Man's love and sacrifice.
A Hill immense, resplendent, high,
Whence all the ruined earth, the darkened sky
Shall kindle, and shall burn with phœnix-fire,
The flame of purged desire.