A Spring Harvest/"O, one came down from Seven Hills"

by Geoffrey Bache Smith

"O, ONE CAME DOWN FROM SEVEN HILLS"

O, one came down from seven hills
 And crossed seven streams:
All in his hands were thyme and grass
 And in his eyes were dreams:
He passèd by a seven fields
 With early dews all grey
And entered in the stricken town
 About the break of day.

"O you old men that stand and talk
 About the market-place,
There is much trouble in your eyes
 And anguish in your face:
O woman in a silent room
 Within a silent house,
There is no pleasure in your voice
 Or peace upon your brows."

"O how should such as we rejoice
 Who weep that others die,
Who quake, and curse ourselves, and watch
 The vengeful hours go by?
O better far to fly the grief
 That wounds, and never kills;
O better far to fly the town
 And seek the seven hills———"

"I will go pray the seven gods
 Who keep the seven hills
That they do grant your city peace,
 And easement of her ills"
"Nay, rather pray the seven gods
 To launch the latest pain;
For there be many things to do
 Ere we see peace again."

"Then I'll go praise the seven gods
 With hymns and chauntings seven,
Such as shall split the mountain-tops
 And shrivel up blue heaven:
That there be men who mock at threats
 And wag their heads at strife,
Love home above their own hearts' blood
 And honour more than life."