Im Pace Sonorum
Ominously, in the east, do the cursed war clouds gather.
Young men, in ignorance claim, "we are unafraid to die."
Send dispatch riders forth on steeds set to labor and lather.
Ring out wild bells to the wild sky!
Our fathers fathers fathers thought their war would be the last,
No more sons as offerings to Mars, nor widows nor orphans cry.
Sing out then Elders who have seen war's obscenity in the past.
Ring out wild bells to the wild sky!
There be time for peace to reign, as shields and swords but rattle,
And taunts and boasts must still be made before the arrows fly.
God grant us sense to end in joy our thirst for blood and battle.
Ring out wild bells to the wild sky!
Copyright © William Kershaw | Year Posted 2010
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