Sonnet On The American War.

She has gone down! Woe for the world, and all Its weary workers! gazing from afar At the clear rising of that hopeful star; Star of redemption to each weeping thrall Of pow'r decrepit, and of rule outworn; Beautiful shining of that blessed morn, Which was to bring leave for the poor to live; To work and rest, to labour and to thrive, And righteous room for all who nobly strive: She has gone down! Woe for the struggling world, Back on its path of progress sternly hurled! Land of sufficient harvests for all dearth, Home of far-seeing Hope, Time's latest birth,— Woe for the promised land of the whole earth!