Katharine Lee Bates

PE of the Nations, lift thy stricken heart
Thyself art Sorrow, and to thee the
Of battle-anguish comes more
Than even in those months of sneer and smart,

O dear my Country, beautiful and dear,
Love cloth not darken sight
God looketh through Love's eyes, whose vision clear Beholds more flaws than keenest Hate hath known
Nor is Love's judgment gentle, but austere;

At the crowded gangway they kissed good-bye
He had half a mind to scold her
An officer's mother and not keep dry The epaulet on his shoulder
He had forgotten mother and fame,

NT are the cedar-boughs stretching green and level,
Feasting-halls where waxwings flit at their spicy revel,
But O the pine, the questing pine, that flings its arms on
To search the secret of the sun and escalade the sky

How long,
O Prince of Peace, how long
We sicken of the
Of this wild war that wraps the world, a roaring

Carnage
Humanity disgraced
Time's dearest toil effaced
Poison gases and

HE wolf of want is
At doors no angel keeps
Young Mary smiled on her Holy Child,
But many a mother weeps

A five-year old in a Cape Cod village, twenty miles from the rail,
Falmouth,
Falmouth, loveliest Falmouth,
Wearing her silvery, pearl-embroidered ocean mist for a veil;

ER the murmurous choral of dim
The constellations glow against the
Ethereal dusk, —forever fair, aloft,
Serene, while man climbs painfully from

GH the winds but stir on their hoary
Of hemlock and pungent pine,
All the whispering woodland
Gossip of things divine, —Why God is gray in the granite rock,

Bodies glad, erect,
Beautiful with youth,
Life's elect,
Nature's truth,

The first faint dawn was flushing up the
When, dreamland still bewildering mine eyes,
I looked out to the oak that, winter-long,— a winter wild with war and woe and wrong —Beyond my casement had been void of song
And lo