A Plea to Peace

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by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

   When mighty issues loom before us, all
   The petty great men of the day seem small,
   Like pigmies standing in a blaze of light
   Before some grim majestic mountain-height.
   War, with its bloody and impartial hand,
   Reveals the hidden weakness of a land,
   Uncrowns the heroes trusting Peace has made
   Of men whose honour is a thing of trade,
   And turns the searchlight full on many a place
   Where proud conventions long have masked disgrace.
   O lovely Peace! as thou art fair be wise.
   Demand great men, and great men shall arise
   To do thy bidding. Even as warriors come,
   Swift at the call of bugle and of drum,
   So at the voice of Peace, imperative
   As bugle’s call, shall heroes spring to live
   For country and for thee. In every land,
   In every age, men are what times demand.
   Demand the best, O Peace, and teach thy sons
   They need not rush in front of death-charged guns
   With murder in their hearts to prove their worth.
   The grandest heroes who have graced the earth
   Were love-filled souls who did not seek the fray,
   But chose the safe, hard, high, and lonely way
   Of selfless labour for a suffering world.
   Beneath our glorious flag again unfurled
   In victory such heroes wait to be
   Called into bloodless action, Peace, by thee.
   Be thou insistent in thy stern demand,
   And wise, great men shall rise up in the land.

by Ella Wheeler Wilcox


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