Lexington
by John Greenleaf Whittier�(1807�1892) |
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NO Berserk thirst of blood had they,
No battle-joy
was theirs, who set
Against the alien bayonet
Their
homespun breasts in that old day.
Their feet had
trodden peaceful ways;
They loved not strife, they
dreaded pain;
They saw not, what to us is plain,
That
God would make man's wrath his praise.
No seers were
they, but simple men;
Its vast results the future hid:
The meaning of the work they did
Was strange and dark and
doubtful then.
Swift as their summons came they left
The plough mid-furrow standing still,
The half-ground
corn grist in the mill,
The spade in earth, the axe in
cleft.
They went where duty seemed to call,
They
scarcely asked the reason why;
They only knew they could
but die,
And death was not the worst of all!
Of
man for man the sacrifice,
All that was theirs to give
they gave.
The flowers that blossomed from their grave
Have sown themselves beneath all skies.
Their
death-shot shook the feudal tower,
And shattered
slavery's chain as well;
On the sky's dome, as on a bell,
Its echo struck the world's great hour.
That fateful
echo is not dumb:
The nations listening to its sound
Wait, from a century's vantage-ground,
The holier
triumphs yet to come,�
The bridal time of Law and
Love,
The gladness of the world's release,
When,
war-sick, at the feet of Peace
The hawk shall nestle with
the dove!�
The golden age of brotherhood
Unknown
to other rivalries
Than of the mild humanities,
And
gracious interchange of good,
When closer strand
shall lean to strand,
Till meet, beneath saluting flags,
The eagle of our mountain-crags,
The lion of our
Motherland! |
By John Greenleaf Whittier�(1807�1892)
Listed June
11, 2014 |
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