Put up the sword! The voice of Christ once more
Speaks, in the pauses of the cannon's roar,
O'er fields of corn by fiery sickles reaped
And left dry ashes; o'er trenches heaped
With nameless dead; o'er cities starving slow
Under a rain of fire; through wards of wo
Down which a groaning diapason runs
From tortured brothers, husbands, lovers, sons,
Of desolate women in their far-off homes,
Waiting to hear the step that never comes.
O men and brothers, let that voice be heard!
War fails; try peace; put up the useless sword.
—John G. Whittier.