Italy





ACROSS the sea I heard the groans

Of nations in the intervals

Of wind and wave. Their blood and bones

Cried out in torture, crushed by thrones,

And sucked by priestly cannibals.



I dreamed of Freedom slowly gained

By martyr meekness, patience, faith,

And lo! an athlete grimly stained,

With corded muscles battle-strained,

Shouting it from the fields of death!



I turn me, awe-struck, from the sight,

Among the clamoring thousands mute,

I only know that God is right,

And that the children of the light

Shall tread the darkness under foot.



I know the pent fire heaves its crust,

That sultry skies the bolt will form

To smite them clear; that Nature must

The balance of her powers adjust,

Though with the earthquake and the storm.



God reigns, and let the earth rejoice!

I bow before His sterner plan.

Dumb are the organs of my choice;

He speaks in battle's stormy voice,

His praise is in the wrath of man!



Yet, surely as He lives, the day

Of peace He promised shall be ours,

To fold the flags of war, and lay

Its sword and spear to rust away,

And sow its ghastly fields with flowers!

1860.





It Was Not Fate Keep Me, Jesus, Keep Me facebooktwittergoogle_plusredditpinterestlinkedinmail

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