View PDF - Brown Library

PEACE
By Daniel Sargent
WITH thousand thundering rivers
The truth of peace flows down,
And all the placid pools of creed
Its ceaseless torrents drown.
Peace—but the fear denies it
Whenever above our head
We see the sword of the threatening hour:
''Strive on, or thy soul is dead."
Peace—when our gaze can never
See out of the trampling crowd,
And only the cowards are backward
For the cry of the hour is loud.
And though we turn from the present
And gaze far into the past,
Did the stars ever stop in their courses
For truth's loud trumpet-blast?
Did Fate ever grow less cruel?
Did it grant to the praying Christ
"Yes, the cup shall be taken away from thy lip,
Thy willingness hath sufficed"?
For Jesus died in his passion,
And Judas choked for his kiss,
And Peter denied his Master thrice:
Such is the peace that is.
And nation rose against nation,
And father rose against son,
And body and soul are cleft apart
Till the endless strife be done.
All that the peace eternal,
With vast tumultuous might,
May pour its burning deluge
Into the vaults of night.
254
All that the truth may enter,
The final word be writ,
Then will the last and the first be one
As Christ hath uttered it.