Arthur Christopher Benson: No carnal triumph of the empurpled sword

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Anti-war essays, poems, short stories and literary excerpts
British writers on peace and war
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Arthur Christopher Benson
From Peace
Nay, she is near us yet – ’tis only we
Have lost the skill to hear her shyly pass,
When she with swift and viewless mystery
Fleets like the breeze across the bending grass;
Not in the gaps of profitable toil,
Not in weak intervals of feverish haste
May she be wooed; but when from stain and soil
Our hands are free, and weakness proudly faced,
Then may the gracious form be sisterly embraced.
Ah – unsubstantial prize, ah, faint reward!
Is then the cold gift of thy temperate hand
No carnal triumph of the empurpled sword,
No fiery thought that fills the awestruck land?
But quiet hours, and sober silent truth,
That not in envy, not in acrid scorn,
Can set aside the elvish dreams of youth,
The haggard fears of age and languor born…?

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