Guns of Peace

By Dinah Maria Mulock Craik (1826–1887)

Sunday night, March 30, 1856.—Close of the Crimean War.

GHOSTS of dead soldiers in the battle slain,

Ghosts of dead heroes dying nobler far

In the long patience of inglorious war,

Of famine, cold, heat, pestilence and pain,—

All ye whose loss makes up our vigorous gain—

This quiet night, as sounds the cannon’s tongue,

Do ye look down the trembling stars among,

Viewing our peace and war with like disdain?

Or, wiser grown since reaching those new spheres,

Smile ye on those poor bones ye sow’d as seed

For this our harvest, nor regret the deed?

Yet lift one cry with us to Heavenly ears—

“Strike with Thy bolt the next red flag unfurl’d,

And make all wars to cease throughout the world.”