Stain Not the Sky

4 0 00

Stain Not the Sky

Ye gods of battle, lords of fear,

Who work your iron will as well

As once ye did with sword and spear,

With rifled gun and rending shell⁠—

Masters of sea and land, forbear

The fierce invasion of the inviolate air!

With patient daring man hath wrought

A hundred years for power to fly;

And will you make his winged thought

A hovering horror in the sky,

Where flocks of human eagles sail,

Dropping their bolts of death on hill and dale?

Ah no, the sunset is too pure,

The dawn too fair, the noon too bright

For wings of terror to obscure

Their beauty, and betray the night

That keeps for man, above his wars,

The tranquil vision of untroubled stars.

Pass on, pass on, ye lords of fear!

Your footsteps in the sea are red,

And black on earth your paths appear

With ruined homes and heaps of dead.

Pass on to end your transient reign,

And leave the blue of heaven without a stain.

The wrong ye wrought will fall to dust,

The right ye shielded will abide;

The world at last will learn to trust

In law to guard, and love to guide;

And Peace of God that answers prayer

Will fall like dew from the inviolate air.