Albery Allson Whitman

Peace

As the raindrop on a flower
When the bow's behind a shower,
As the breeze that fans the forehead
Of the sunset, when his cheeks red
Nestle on his mountain pillow,
Or a sea without a billow;
So is Peace's sweet libations,
To the bosom of the Nations.

While the Shepherd's lone were tending
Flocks by night on Judah's plain;
Angels bright above them bending,
Trumpeted their sweet refrain:

"Glory be to God in Heaven,
Peace on earth, good will to men,
To the world a Savior's given,
Lo! he comes in Bethlehem.

Then a door in Heaven opened,
And a milk-white spirit flew
From the golden portals earthward —
And the Nation's journeying thro',

She touched the Conqu'ror's sword, that thrust
Thro' thousand hearts red honors wore;
The glitt'ring terror fell before
His eyes and crumbled into dust.

She breathed upon the warrior's wreath,
And while applauses filled his ears,
And earth her tribute paid of tears,
His glory withered in her breath.

She stood behind the tyrant's throne;
His sceptre vanished from his hand;
And lo! he saw on sea and land,
His gloomy power was gone.

She fanned the lab'rer's care-worn brow,
And sunshine falling from her wing
Into his heart, forced him to sing
While leaning on his plow.

Then by his cot she turned her flight,
And blithe health to the doorway ran,
Contentment's sweetest songs began,
And all within was light.