THE WAR. I saw a war, yet none the trumpet blew, And bids us as each other's neighbor live, Ere haughty Self within us has deceased; They fought for him whose kingdom must increase, Good will to men, on earth forever peace. THE GRAVE YARD. My heart grows sick before the wide-spread death, The worm and rotten flesh hide not nor lie; THY BROTHER'S BLOOD. I HAVE no Brother, they who meet me now And, while they wear a smooth unwrinkled brow, Go, all its hidden plunder quickly sell, Then shalt thou cleanse thee from thy brother's gore, Then will I take thy gift ;-that bloody stain Shall not be seen upon thy hand again. THE JEW. THOU art more deadly than the Jew of old, Thou hast me fenced about with thorny talk, FAITH. THERE is no faith; the mountain stands within By him who rose triumphant o'er the grave. |