Lilies and Doves
Bring not the lily hither; she is pale,
—And we have bought with blood the end of strife.
She lives a day; and then her glories fail.
—The peace we died for shall outlive our life.
Make not the dove an emblem; she hath wings,
—And she will fly: 'tis not her cooing song
That shall proclaim the concord whence there springs
Stern peace—a joy inflexible and strong.
—And we have bought with blood the end of strife.
She lives a day; and then her glories fail.
—The peace we died for shall outlive our life.
Make not the dove an emblem; she hath wings,
—And she will fly: 'tis not her cooing song
That shall proclaim the concord whence there springs
Stern peace—a joy inflexible and strong.
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