Peace can be found in strife: artillery
Are belching forth this sweet, entrancing morn
Their projectiles of death: yet as in scorn,
Lost in the sky's clear, blue serenity
The larks in music sing their love new-born,
Trilling its joy, its natural ecstasy;
The butterfly along Life s drift is borne;
And seeking nectar drones the wand'ring bee.
Thus Nature is serene amid the strife:
And in the hearts of those who calmly stand
Here in the trenches ('mid Death's hail) un- mann'd,
Flinging at Death the treasure of a Life-
There is a peace unknown to those (deny!)
Who have not dared for Liberty to die.