The Crossed Swords

swords crossed,—but not in strife! The chiefs who drew them, parted by the space Of two proud countries’ quarrel, face to face Ne’er stood for death or life. Swords crossed that never met While nerve was in the hands that wielded them; Hands better destined a fair family stem On these free shores to set. Kept crossed by gentlest bands! Emblems no more of battle, but of peace; And proof how loves can grow and wars can cease, Their once stern symbol stands. It smiled first on the array Of marshalled books and friendliest companies; And here a history among histories, It still shall smile for aye. See that thou memory keep Of him the firm commander; and that other, The stainless judge; and him our peerless brother,— All fallen now asleep. Yet more: a lesson teach, To cheer the patriot-soldier in his course, That Right shall triumph still o’er insolent Force: That be your silent speech. Oh, be prophetic too! And may those nations twain, as sign and seal Of endless amity, hang up their steel As we these weapons do! The archives of the Past, So smeared with blots of hate and bloody wrong, Pining for peace, and sick to wait so long, Hail this meek cross at last.