Classic Poem

What worse, you ask, than ruthless war,—
Sunk ships, stormed cities, states down-hurled,—
The thundrous hammer-strokes of Thor
That crush the rock-ribs of the world?

What worse than horrid war? O cease
The coward cry; is not the curse
Of vile and ignominious peace
Bought with the price of honor, worse?

What worse than war? A sullied fame;
The scoff of nations, and the scorn
Of history and song; the shame—
The taint—corrupting sons unborn.

Better is war than sordid gain
Wrung from the servile; better far
Than manhood lost and virtue slain,
Is war, war, everlasting war!

Alas! I too lament the woe
That war must bring—the blood, the tears;
Yet Right, to vanquish Wrong, I know
Must oft beat pruning-hooks to spears.

When fallen Liberty's sweet breast
Throbs bare below the Spaniard's knife,
Pause not to drool of worst or best,—
First save the bleeding victim's life.

Two strokes sublime Columbia's hand
Hath dealt in war,—one stroke to save
From foreign sway our Native Land,—
One stroke to free the negro slave.

Now once again the great sword awes
The despot,—flames o'er land and sea,—
A volunteer in Cuba's cause:
Spain falls and Cuba rises free!