Harriet Monroe

(23 December 1860 – 26 September 1936 / Chicago, Illinois)

For Peace - Poem by Harriet Monroe

Flowers grow in the grass,
Baby footfalls pass
Over the fields once red,
Over the hero's head—
For Peace.

The earth, through her leafy veil,
Whispers a magic tale;
And the scholar reads in the clod
The latest news of God—
For Peace.

Brave little wires are spun
For voices to fly upon;
Words out of clouds are caught
From some witch's woof of thought
For Peace.
And the cataract's foamy troubles
Illumine a million bubbles,
In some city far away
Turning the night to day—
For Peace.

Proud trains, heralds austere,
Bring far-off nations near,
Piercing the mountain's crown,
Treading the barriers down—
For Peace.

Swift ships, that pound the sea,
Set the earth-chained spirit free,
Show the whole round world unrolled
Before the young moon grows old—
For Peace.

And the white-winged aeroplane
Laughs, in its mad disdain,
At limits and barricades
And cruisers and cavalcades—
For Peace.

Even the war engines dread—
The guns with bomb-shells fed,
The grim gray battle-ships—
Shout through their iron lips
For Peace.

Oh, never a hero's grave
But for Peace his life he gave!
And the warrior bears his scar,
And the poet sings of war
For Peace.


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Poem Submitted: Friday, April 16, 2010



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