Classic Poem

What silence and what peace!
What joy, as of release
From some black spell,
Falls on the world,
As four long years of fiery tumult cease,
Death's flags are furled,
And All's Well! All's Well!
Rings round a world awakened from war's hell.

The sounds of tumult cease—
Once more the world grows still;
So still one hears the winds upon the hill,
Like murmur of spent waves upon Life's shore,
The bickering of birds before the door,
The rustle of leaves, the rain rills in the eaves,
And countless gentle sounds one's heard before,
Long, long ago—those days before the War.

How sweet they strike upon the ear again!
How good, how good to know they were not slain
In the tempest of men's pain:
That these will last,
And only the long lists of death are past,
And all the terrible, cruel give-and-take of war;
That what is strong and merciful and true
Moves onward as before:
The gentleness and courtesy of living,
The humble joy of kindness and of giving,
Helping men smile and little children play—
Lending a hand to all upon Life's Way.

How marvellous to know
That man is free to sow,
Even in France his hands may plant at will,
His windows blaze with light
In the darkest night,
And overhead no foe
Hover to kill;
That he may watch the smoke crawl from his chimney pot,
His hops growing, his cocks crowing,
His children romping in the pasture lot,
And fear no ill!

While out at sea
Only the dolphins flee,
And man goes down to the sea in ships
Careless and free,
Singing his old songs merrily,
Burning his green lights cheerily,
Knowing that frightfulness has ceased to be.

Peace has returned to the ways of men—
And with the peace the world goes on again,
Spinning its golden threads of life's dream.
Though now and then
The gleam
Is somewhat dulled with thin grey threads of pain
That Death has spun into the golden skein.

Yes, peace is here, but we shall not forget
The price we paid; neither shall we regret
What we have laid upon the lap of Life,
But, quiet and unafraid,
Stand ready still to push the bloody strife
Before we'll see Humanity betrayed.

So sudden it comes! we listen half in fear
To small sounds in our ear—
Piping of frogs and bark of farm-yard dogs—
Thinking, perhaps, the guns are drawing near.
Guns! their tongues are tied for a thousand year,
And after that there'll be no guns to fear.

So always we'll remember
This eleventh of November;
This morning when the sun
Washes a world tremulous with gladness,
That wars are done
And all war's awful sadness,
That Truth has won—
As Truth must always win—
And hell and hate lie throttled in their madness!

The four-years' night is ended!
A rosy morn is flooding all the earth,
As mankind rises to a nobler birth
With past ways mended,
And all the future glorious and splendid.
Yes, Peace and the rising sun and night withdrawn—
Oh, make us worthy, Lord, to face