I am as awful as my brother war
I am the sudden silence after clamour
I am the face that shoes the seamy scars
When blood and frenzy has lost its glamour
Men in my pause shall know the cost at last
That is not to be paid in triumphs or tears.
Nations! Whose ravenous engines must be fed
Endlessly with the father and the son
My naked light upon your darkness dread
By which ye shall behold what ye have done
Whereon more like a vulture than a dove
You set my seal in hatered not in love
Let no man call me good. I am not blest.
My single virtue is but the end of crimes
I only am the period of unrest
The ceasing of horrors of the time.
My good is but the negative of I'll
Such ill as bends the spirit with despair
Such ill as makes the nations soul stand
still and freeze to stone beneath a Gorgon glare.
Be blunt and say that peace is but a state
Wherein the active soul is free to move
And nations only show as mean or great
According to the spirit then they prove-
O which of ye whose battle cry is Hate
Will first in peace dare shout the name of Love

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