War and Peace by Unknown
THE warrior waves his standard high,
His falchion flashes in the fray;
He madly shouts his battle-cry,
And glories in a well-fought day.
But Famine’s at the city gate,
And Rapine prowls without the walls;
The city round lies desolate,
While Havoc’s blighting footstep falls.
By ruined hearths, by homes defiled,
In scenes that nature’s visage mar,
We feel the storm of passions wild,
And pluck the bitter fruit of war.
The cobweb hangs on Sword and belt,
The charger draws the gliding plow;
The cannons in the furnace melt,
And change to gentle purpose now;
The threshers swing their ponderous flails,
The craftsmen toil with cheerful might;
The ocean swarms with merchant sails,
And busy mills look gay by night;
The happy land becomes renowned,
As knowledge, arts, and wealth increase,
And thus, with plenty smiling round,
We cull the blessed fruits of peace.