Come, build a Parthenon of Peace to youth--
Hold high their torch; bid them know hero-height--
Who now lie still, lips made for laughter mute.
Remove the sword from their pale hearts, once blithe.
Earth can be beautiful: Flame peace until
White lilies bloom where swords dissolve in rust,
And the stallion--war--that lopes through crimson mist
Plods before the plow, servile and dull.
