THE WASTE OF WAR.

Give me the gold that war has cost, Before this peace-expanding day; The wasted skill, the labor lost— The mental treasure thrown away; And I will buy each rood of soil In every yet discovered land; Where hunters roam, where peasants toil, Where many-peopled cities stand. I'll clothe each shivering wretch on earth. In needful; nay, in brave attire; Vesture befitting banquet mirth, Which kings might envy and admire. In every vale, on every plain, A school shall glad the gazer's sight; Where every poor man's child may gain Pure knowledge, free as air and light. I'll build asylums for the poor, By age or ailment made forlorn: And none shall thrust them from the door, Or sting with looks and words of scorn. I'll link each alien hemisphere; Help honest men to conquer wrong; Art, Science, Labor, nerve and cheer; Reward the Poet for his song. In every crowded town shall rise Halls Academic, amply graced; Where Ignorance may soon be wise, And Coarseness learn both art and taste To every province shall belong Collegiate structures, and not few— Fill'd with a truth-exploring throng, And teachers of the good and true. In every free and peopled clime A vast Walhalla hall shall stand; A marble edifice sublime, For the illustrious of the land; A Pantheon for the truly great, The wise, beneficent, and just; A place of wide and lofty state To honor or to hold their dust. A temple to attract and teach Shall lift its spire on every hill, Where pious men shall feel and preach Peace, mercy, tolerance, good-will; Music of bells on Sabbath days, Round the whole earth shall gladly rise; And one great Christian song of praise Stream sweetly upward to the skies!