From The Birmingham Age-Herald, January 18, 1913. By John Ruskin. Put off, put off your mail, O kings, And beat your brands to dust, Your hands must learn a surer grasp, Your hearts a better trust. Oh, bend aback the lance’s point, And break the helmet bar; A noise is in the morning wind, But not the note of war. Upon the grassy mountain paths, The glittering hosts increase; They come, they come! How fair their feet— They come who publish peace. And victory, fair victory, Our enemies are ours; For all the clouds are clasped in light And all the earth with flowers. Ay, still depressed and dim with dew, But wait a little while; And with the radiant deathless rose The wilderness shall smile. And every dainty tender thing Shall feed by streams of rest; No lamb shall from the flock be lost, Nor nursling from the nest.