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John Oxenham

John Oxenham

No Peace But A Right Peace

   An inconclusive peace!—
   A peace that would be no peace—
   Naught but a treacherous truce for breeding
   Of a later, greater, baser-still betrayal!—
   “No!”...
   The spirits of our myriad valiant dead,
   Who died to make peace sure and life secure,
   Thunder one mighty cry of righteous indignation,—
   One vast imperative, unanswerable “No!”...
   “Not for that, not for that, did we die!”—
   They cry;—
   “—To give fresh life to godless knavery!
  —To forge again the chains of slavery
   Such as humanity has never known!
   We gave our lives to set Life free,
   Loyally, willingly gave we,
   Lest on our children, and on theirs,
   Should come like misery.
   And now, from our souls’ heights and depths,
   We cry to you,—“Beware,
   Lest you defraud us of one smallest atom of the price
   Of this our sacrifice!
   One fraction less than that full liberty,
   Which comes of righteous and enduring peace,
   Will be betrayal of your trust,—
   Betrayal of your race, the world, and God.”

#EnglishWriters

Other works by John Oxenham...
Credo

Not what, but WHOM, I do believ… That, in my darkest hour of need, Hath comfort that no mortal creed To mortal man may give;— Not what, but WHOM!
The Nameless Graves

Unnamed at times, at times unknown… Our graves lie thick beyond the se… Unnamed, but not of Him unknown;— He knows!—He sees! And not one soul has fallen in vai…
In Time Of Need

Better than I, Thou knowest, Lord, All my necessity, And with a word Thou canst it all supply.
Philosopher’s Garden

By William Arthur Dunkerley (Joh… "‘See this my garden, Large and fair!’" —Thus, to his friend, The Philosopher.
E.A., Nov. 6, 1900

Bright stars of Faith and Hope, h… Shall shine for us through all the… For all her life was Love, and fe… Touch not the love that never dies… And Death itself, to her, was but
The Ballad Of Lost Souls

With the thirty pieces of silver, They bought the Potter’s Field; For none would have the blood-mone… And the interest it might yield. The Place of Blood for the Price…
The Gate

I trod an arduous way, but came at… To where the city walls rose fair… Above the darkening plain,—a goodl… And eagerly, while yet a great way… My eyes did seek the Gates—the Gr…
The Bells of Ys

When the Bells of Ys rang softly,… Soft—and sweet—and low, Not a sound was heard in the old g… As the silvery tones came floating… But life stood still with uncovere…
My Brother’s Keeper?

centered(A Warning) “Am I my brother’s keeper?” Yes, of a truth! Thine asking is thine answer. That self-condemning cry of Cain
The Pruner

God is a zealous pruner, For He knows— Who, falsely tender, spares the kn… But spoils the rose.
His Mercy Endureth For Ever

Our feet have wandered, wandered f… His mercy endureth for ever! From that strait path in which the… His mercy endureth for ever! Low have we fallen from our high e…
Cup Of Mixture

For every Guest who comes with hi… The Host compounds a strangely mi… Red Wine of Life and Dregs of Bi… And, will-he, nil-he, each must dr…
God Is Good

I faced a future all unknown, No opening could I see, I heard without the night wind moa… The ways were dark to me,— “I cannot face it all alone
Dies Irae—Dies Pacis

(As earnestly as any I crave the victory of Right over this madness of Insensate Might against which we are contending. As certainly as any I would, if that were conceivably poss...
A Silent Te Deum

We thank Thee, Lord, For all Thy Golden Silences,— For every Sabbath from the world’… For every respite from the stress… Silence of moorlands rolling to th…



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