Poem November 7, 1914 Issue

[Written for the Sentinel]

The Day of Peace

THOMAS SPEED MOSBY

'Tis coming yet, though dimly seen
Beyond the clouds where cannon roar—
A day shall know no more rapine,
And war's rude note be heard no more.

For Love hath lit her beacon bright,
And learning true, that doth expand,
Shall in the future spread her light
To vanquish yet the mailèd hand.

In that fair golden, distant time,—
It may be far, it may be near,—
Eternal peace shall bless each clime,
Nor more shall fall the needless tear.

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