William Butler Yeats

The Rose of Peace

  If Michael, leader of God's host
  When Heaven and Hell are met,
  Looked down on you from Heaven's door-post
  He would his deeds forget.

  Brooding no more upon God's wars
  In his Divine homestead,
  He would go weave out of the stars
  A chaplet for your head.

  And all folk seeing him bow down,
  And white stars tell your praise,
  Would come at last to God's great town,
  Led on by gentle ways;

  And God would bid His warfare cease.
  Saying all things were well;
  And softly make a rosy peace,
  A peace of Heaven with Hell.