In Spite Of War

In spite of war, in spite of death,

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In spite of all man's sufferings,

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Something within me laughs and sings

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And I must praise with all my breath.

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In spite of war, in spite of hate

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Lilacs are blooming at my gate,

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Tulips are tripping down the path

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In spite of war, in spite of wrath.

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"Courage!" the morning-glory saith;

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"Rejoice!" the daisy murmureth,

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And just to live is so divine

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When pansies lift their eyes to mine.

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The clouds are romping with the sea,

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And flashing waves call back to me

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That naught is real but what is fair,

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That everywhere and everywhere

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A glory liveth through despair.

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Though guns may roar and cannon boom,

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Roses are born and gardens bloom;

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My spirit still may light its flame

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At that same torch whence poppies came.

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Where morning's altar whitely burns

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Lilies may lift their silver urns

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In spite of war, in spite of shame.

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And in my ear a whispering breath,

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"Wake from the nightmare! Look and see

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That life is naught but ecstasy

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In spite of war, in spite of death!"