Poem of the Day.


verse/vol10war:
They Cry Peace, Peace, When There Is No Peace.

By Mrs. Alethea S. Burroughs, of Georgia.



They are ringing peace on my heavy ear--
  No peace to my heavy heart!
They are ringing peace, I hear! I hear!
  O God! how my hopes depart!

They are ringing peace from the mountain side;
  With a hollow voice it comes--
They are ringing peace o'er the foaming tide,
  And its echoes fill our homes.

They are ringing peace, and the spring-time blooms
  Like a garden fresh and fair;
But our martyrs sleep in their silent tombs--
  Do _they_ hear that sound--do they hear?

They are ringing peace, and the battle-cry
  And the bayonet's work are done,
And the armor bright they are laying by,
  From the brave sire to the son.

And the musket's clang, and the soldier's drill,
  And the tattoo's nightly sound;
We shall hear no more, with a joyous thrill,
  Peace, peace, they are ringing round!

There are women, still as the stifled air
  On the burning desert's track,
Not a cry of joy, not a welcome cheer--
  And their brave ones coming back!

There are fair young heads in their morning pride,
  Like the lilies pale they bow;
Just a memory left to the soldier's bride--
  Ah, God! sustain her now!

There are martial steps that we may not hear!
  There are forms we may not see!
Death's muster roll they have answered clear,
  _They are free! thank God, they are free!_

Not a fetter fast, nor a prisoner's chain
  For the noble army gone--
No conqueror comes o'er the heavenly plain--
  Peace, _peace to the dead alone!_

They are ringing peace, but strangers tread
  O'er the land where our fathers trod,
And our birthright joys, like a dream, have fled,
  And _Thou!_ where art _Thou_, 0 God!

They are ringing peace! _not here, not here,_
  Where the victor's mark is set;
Roll back to the North its mocking cheer--
  No peace to the Southland yet!

We may sheathe the sword, and the rifle-gun
  We may hang on the cottage wall,
And the bayonet brave, sharp duty done,
  From, the soldier's arm it may fall.

But peace!--no peace! till the same good sword,
  Drawn out from its scabbard be,
And the wide world list to my country's word,
  And the South! oh, the South, be free!

Charleston Broadside.





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(Saturday, 25 May, 2019.)