From The Birmingham Age-Herald, January 18, 1913.
By John Ruskin.
Put off, put off your mail, O kings,
And beat your brands to dust,
Your hands must learn a surer grasp,
Your hearts a better trust.
Oh, bend aback the lance’s point,
And break the helmet bar;
A noise is in the morning wind,
But not the note of war.
Upon the grassy mountain paths,
The glittering hosts increase;
They come, they come! How fair their feet—
They come who publish peace.
And victory, fair victory,
Our enemies are ours;
For all the clouds are clasped in light
And all the earth with flowers.
Ay, still depressed and dim with dew,
But wait a little while;
And with the radiant deathless rose
The wilderness shall smile.
And every dainty tender thing
Shall feed by streams of rest;
No lamb shall from the flock be lost,
Nor nursling from the nest.