Classic Poem

I

Two Mothers lifting prayers unto one God,
In alien language, and on hostile sod.

Two Maidens wailing in a different tongue,
The gory mass of silent men among.

Two Monarchs couch'd in indolent repose,
Reaping Ambition by their subjects' throes.

Foes, that have never done each other ill:
Friends, whose sole union is the aim to kill.

Banners clutch'd fierce — the death-grasp of the brave —
A tatter'd rag that glorifies the grave.

Far-rolling smoke above a vulture plain;
Artillery piled on ramparts of the slain.

Nature swathed round in one close crimson shroud;
Black speechlessness of the low thunder-cloud.

The fields untill'd, the rich Heavens raining dearth;
Weeds in the garden; weeping by the hearth.

II

Now, in the Land of Shades two Mothers meet,
Mourning, embracing, — with ensanguined feet.

Two Maidens clasp one urn that doth enclose
The ashes of their lovers, who were foes.

Two Kings in silence meet — in silence part —
They find, too late, they have a human heart.

Nations of slain, whose armies won and lost,
Mingle their shades: Death holds no hostile ghost.

Their records shall instruct, with heartfelt moan,
Their sons to combat with life's ills alone.

Nations, who strove to waste each other's lands,
Turn swords to ploughshares for their common hands.

Oh, misery! before that day can come,
War-fiends may thrust their fangs in many a home.