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From the Omaha Daily Bee, September 26, 1914.

When Peace her olive branch held out,
    And wooed the nations to her arms,
They rudely drove her from their side,
    And turned their backs upon her charms.
In vain she pleaded to be heard,
    In vain she tried the world to save
From all the horrors of grim war,
    That opened up a nation’s grave.

So, driven forth, she fled away
    No more to come with outstretched hand,
But to remain across the seas
    Safe sheltered in a friendly land.
And now they sigh and long for her,
    And strain their horror-stricken eyes
To catch a glimpse of her white robe,
    Until the hope within them dies.

But now ’tis they who must seek her,
    And toilsome is the dreadful way,
Through carnage fields and burning homes,
    Past piles of dead and savage fray,
Knee deep in bloody rivers’ flow,
    Through scenes whose terrors never cease,
This is the way they now must go,
    The nations, when they seek for peace.

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