Sonnets of the Great Peace: III.

How did we cast away our careless days
In that old time before we knew their worth,
Wandering with chance, even as a child that strays,
Spilling their unprized splendors on the earth!
But now we have eaten War as daily bread,
Borne it upon our souls a weary weight,
Made it the pillow to a restless head,
Breathed it as air, sick with the reek of hate:
And Peace is come a stranger, and grave-eyed,
Like a young maid turned woman; on our knees
We do her reverence as a spirit enskyed;
How should we spend such shining days as these?
They have cost great pain: needs must we hold them dear,
Counting our jewels with a heavenly fear.