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BEYOND WARS
by Morton, David [1886- ]

Then will a quiet gather round the door,
And settle on those evening fields again,
Where women watch the slow, home-coming men
Across brown acres hoofed and hurt no more,
The sound of children's feet be on the floor,
When lamps are lit, and stillness deeper falls,
Unbroken, save where cattle in their stalls
Keep munching patiently upon their store.
Only a scar beside the pasture gate,
A torn and naked tree upon the hill,
What times remembered, will remind them still
Of long disastrous days they knew of late;
Till these, too, yield for sweet, accustomed things,—
And a man ploughs, a woman sews and sings.
David Morton.

Source: Project Gutenberg

Source: Project Gutenberg