Gleam of Peace

The June sky reaches down, pure, deeply blue;The fields grow crimson in the clover glow;A glimpse of heaven has almost broken throughThe screening veil, to cheer us as we go;And God, who has frowned on us, smiles again,And turns to gladness all our weary woe.

Four years of blood! The way has been so sad!The life-blood of our bravest and our best!Many have yielded up all that they hadTo save their country! loyal manifest!Yielded them to the nobly deathless fameThat shall forever mark our soldiers' rest!

To die for Country, Liberty, and Right!A holy cause! I almost envy thoseWho sleep in nameless graves, this summer night,A sacrifice unto our country's foes!No better death to die! no grander fateTo meet and conquer, all the wide world knows!

We look for day! we think the night is o'er!The south wind, sighing o'er the blooming hills,Speaks to us gently thoughts unsaid before,And in the solemn hush of twilight stillsWe catch Divine suggestions of the peaceWhich shall descend upon us when God wills.

The war is ended! Do we think, and speak,The words with all the grateful thrill they claim?Have our hard lessons brought submission meekUnto His will, whom all the angels nameWith reverent voices, as we mention thoseWhom holy martyrdom consigned to fame?

We weep for those we loved and yielded up;There are deep graves in many bosoms here,Sorrow's stern hand has pressed the bitter cupTo many a lip; but God is always nearTo those who mourn; and He will not forgetTo dry the weeping eye and anguished tear.

At peace! My soul thrills at the welcome sound!At peace once more! No battle-trump to blow!No martial bugles o'er the hills resound—No tramp of armed men—no crimson flowOf life upon the hillsides' lush green grass;At peace! and o'er us summer's golden glow!

June, 1865.