Iii

How did we cast away our careless days In that old time before we knew their worth, Wandering with chance, even as a child that strays, Spilling their unprized splendors on the earth! But now we have eaten War as daily bread, Borne it upon our souls a weary weight, Made it the pillow to a restless head, Breathed it as air, sick with the reek of hate: And Peace is come a stranger, and grave-eyed, Like a young maid turned woman; on our knees We do her reverence as a spirit enskyed; How should we spend such shining days as these? They have cost great pain: needs must we hold them dear, Counting our jewels with a heavenly fear.