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.
