My God in Spring or War
It’s hard to conceive of a war being fought, When I look at the grass and the trees: Its spring, with her beauty too dear to be bought, That surrounds me with light, gentle breeze. All creation is moving about me with life: The birds, like always, sing praise to our King. I hear croaking of frogs, the air seems just rife, With the scent of the flowers of spring. Yet beyond all this calm and circle of peace. There are thousands of men steeped in battle: Though hearts may long for the...