Two angels sat on a war-cloud, watching the din of the fight, One was an angel of darkness, and one was an angel of light. The first looked down and smiled, with fearful, fiendish glee: 'Of all earth's sights,' he shouted, 'this is the one for me! Where is your God in heaven? and where on earth is your Christ? What have your laws and your gospels, your churches and sabbaths sufficed-- That here in this freest land, and now in this ripest age, Men give up reason and manhood for brutal fury and rage? Men who have prattled of peace, of brotherhood, freedom, and right! Here is a thirst which is deeper! See how your Christians can fight! Louder than savages' war-whoop, fiercer than savages' ire, List to the din of their cannon, look on its murderous fire. These be thy triumphs, O Freedom! Christendom, this is thy good! Deadliest weapons of warfare, earth's reddest vintage of blood; The fate of states and nations, the fate of freedom and right Staked on the nerve of a man, poised on a cannon ball's flight; A land of widows and orphans, a land of mourning and pain, Whose air is heavy with sighs, whose soil is red with the slain. Say, Earth, art thou drawing nearer that age, the promised of yore, When swords shall be beaten to ploughshares, and war be learned no more? Is the Prince of Peace appearing of whom your prophets tell? Lo, here is the Prince of Darkness, and here is the reign of Hell.' And the angel laughed in scorn, and said, in his fearful glee: 'Aha, of all earth's sights, this is the one for me.' The other angel spake, and his face was fair and bright, 'And of all earth's sights to me this is the noblest sight. At the touch of a hand profane laid on its sacred things, Countless as heaven's bright army, to arms a nation springs. Thousands of peaceful homes give up their cherished ones, Young wives give up their bridegrooms, old mothers give their sons; Manhood gives up its work, and eager youth its dream: The reign of sense is over, the spirit rules supreme. No victims of brute rage, no hirelings trained to fight, But men in calmest manhood, fresh from the hearthstone's light. This right arm, maimed and crippled, was dedicate to art; All high and noble purpose beat with that pulseless heart; Pure bridal kisses linger upon this gory brow; On those fair curls a mother's blessing rested even now: Such men,--the best and dearest, the very life of life, Earth has no ransom for them,--have hastened to the strife. 'The nobler days have come when men must do and die,' Methinks I hear them say, with calm, uplifted eye: 'Our human lives are nothing; thy will, great God, is all; We come to work thy work, we have heard the heavenly call;