John Greenleaf Whittier

Blow, bugles of battle, the marches of peace;
East, west, north, and south let the long quarrel cease;
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Blow, bugles of battle, the marches of peace;
East, west, north, and south let the long quarrel cease;
Sing the song of great joy that the angels began,
Sing the glory to God and of good-will to man!

For of all sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these: "It might have been!".

For of all sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these: "It might have been!".

Press bravely onward!--not in vain
Your generous trust in human kind;
The good which bloodshed could not read more

Press bravely onward!--not in vain
Your generous trust in human kind;
The good which bloodshed could not gain
Your peaceful zeal shall find.

Simply duty hath no place for fear.

Simply duty hath no place for fear.

Again the blackbirds sings; the streams
Wake, laughing, from their winter dreams,
And tremble in the April read more

Again the blackbirds sings; the streams
Wake, laughing, from their winter dreams,
And tremble in the April showers
The tassels of the maple flowers.