- Poem: WAR.
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O HELL-SPED fury War, with wings raised high
Hawk-like that hoverest to smite!
How many eager now, stark-dead shall lie,
Ere thou hast flown thy fatal flight!
O sea of strife, whose armed hosts still come on,
Like wind-urged waves across the main!--
What throes must flesh endure ere thou sink down
In smoothly flowing Peace again!
O callous War! Cold-blooded game of death,
With men 'gainst men as foes arrayed,--
What pride of youth must yield life's precious breath
Ere to an end thy game be played!
O devastating, desolating War, --
What dirges follow thee! what dearth
And blackened ruin, where thou goest, mar
The goodly pleasantness of Earth!