The Widow: A War Song

'STAND, Watchman, on the Castle height,

And southward gaze for me,
Beyond the day, across the night,

And say— What dost thou see? '
'I see the clouds of battle lower,

Our hosts flock forth to slay! . . .*
The Widow, in her Palace bower,

Stood listening, old and gray.
'Oh, Watchman, is it well with those

Who 'neath my banners stand,
Whose swords are drawn to smite my foes

In yonder far-off Land? '
'Lady, their camps are red with blood,

Their kinsmen's and their own
As pale as Death the Widow stood,

Sad-hearted and alone.
'Oh, Watchman, look again and hark,

What dost thou hear and see? '
'I hear a sobbing in the dark

Of widow'd souls like thee, —
I hear a sound that drowns in tears

The War-cry far away! '
That sound of sorrow in her ears,

The Widow knelt to pray.
'Oh, Watchman, gaze across the night

And watch my hosts again,
For surely troops of Angels bright

Are hovering round the slain? '
'Angels of Death in raiment red

Pass, but in wrath divine! '
The Widow moaned, ' God help the Dead,

And loving hearts like mine!'
'Oh, Watchman, seek the night afar

For Him, our God and Lord, —
Among those thunder-clouds of War

Doth He not wield the sword? '
'Lady, indeed I see Him there,

But bow'd in woe like thee! '
The Widow, moaning in despair,

Pray'd still on bended knee.
'Oh, look again! doth He not stay

To crown my glorious Dead? '
'Lady, He rather turns away

To bless the widow's bread,
To dry the weeping children's eyes

Throughout the stricken Lands! '
Her gaze uplifted to the skies,

The Widow wrung her hands.
'Oh, Watchman, doth He speak no word,

To be our strength and guide? '
Nay! — for the hand that draws the Sword

Must cast the Sword aside!
Thy Master is the Prince of Peace,

But holds no soul in thrall, —
'Tis theirs to bid the tempest cease

Who prayed that it should fall! '
'Oh, Watchman, mark my sons once more!

Do they riot pause and kneel? '
'Lady, thy legions trample o'er

The necks beneath their heel;
They cry for Him, thy Lord, to bless

Their bloody loss and gain! '
She sobbed, ' Christ, help the fatherless! '

Aad wrung her hands again.
'Oh look and see, more near,'

The weeping Widow said,
'How fare the men who loosen'd here

Those storms of wrath and dread,
Wrho swore to me that Christ our Lord

Wrould bless the Dream and Deed? '
'Lady, around the laden board

They feast, while thousands bleed! '
'My curse,' she cried, ' for evermore

On those false Chiefs and vain
WTho drew by night across my door

The crimson cross of Cain! '
'Lady, from land to land there runs

The sob of broken hearts,
While the brave life-blood of thy sons

Is priced in yonder marts! '
The royal Widow rose her height.

'My path is dark,' she said,
'I prayed the Lord to lend me Light,

He sends me Death instead! '
'Lady, when men forsake their Lord

His Light is ne'er their guide;
Only the hand that draws the sword

Can cast the sword aside.'