Margaret Junkin Preston
We do accept thee, heavenly Peace!
Albeit thou comest in a guise
Unlooked for–undesired, our eyes
Welcome through tears the sweet release
From war, and woe, and want,–surcease,
For which we bless thee, blessed Peace!
We lift our foreheads from the dust;
And as we meet thy brow’s clear calm,
There falls a freshening sense of balm
Upon our spirits. Fear–distrust–
The hopeless present on us thrust–
We’ll meet them as we can, and must.
War has not wholly wrecked us; still
Strong hands, brave hearts, high souls are ours–
Proud consciousness of quenchless powers–
A Past whose memory makes us thrill–
Futures uncharactered, to fill
With heroisms–if we will.
Then courage, brothers!–Though each breast
Feel oft the rankling thorn, despair,
That failure plants so sharply there–
No pain, no pang shall be confest:
We’ll work and watch the brightening west,
And leave to God and Heaven, the rest.
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Analysis (AI Assisted)
This poem addresses the moment when war ends but the damage remains. It speaks to people who have been exhausted and reshaped by conflict, and it tries to guide them into a new posture toward the future. Peace arrives “in a guise unlooked for,” which suggests that the end of the war does not feel like a triumph. Instead, it feels abrupt and heavy, and not entirely welcome. The poem begins by admitting this tension outright: peace is desired for the relief it brings, yet it also forces the speaker and the community to confront loss, defeat, and the uncertainty of rebuilding.
The recognition that people “welcome through tears the sweet release” sets the emotional tone. Peace is not treated as a celebration but as a complicated return to normal life. The first stanza gives the impression of a population that has stumbled into peace rather than marched into it. This honesty is one of the poem’s strengths. It does not pretend the transition is smooth, and it does not try to brighten it with forced optimism.
The second stanza deepens that idea. The gesture of lifting “our foreheads from the dust” shows how low the war has brought them, but it also marks the first act of recovery. The encounter with peace is described as calming, even medicinal, though it doesn’t erase the realities facing them. Fear and distrust remain, along with a “hopeless present.” The poem doesn’t dwell on the hopelessness, but it acknowledges it clearly, refusing to hide behind slogans or emotional inflation. The phrase “we’ll meet them as we can, and must” sums up the poem’s straightforward sense of resolve. It’s not heroic. It’s not inflated. It’s simply the next necessary step.
The third stanza shifts the poem from lament to assessment. War has not “wholly wrecked us,” which sounds like a minimal victory but is meant sincerely. The poem points to the internal resources that survived: strong hands, brave hearts, high souls. These traits are presented as the starting materials for rebuilding. The reference to a past that “makes us thrill” works to restore a sense of identity and continuity after the uncertainty described earlier. It also frames the future as unwritten, open to new actions and accomplishments. The poem stresses that heroism is still possible, not as battlefield glory but as reconstruction, endurance, and moral effort.
The final stanza offers a kind of practical encouragement. The poem recognizes that despair is a normal and frequent experience after failure, and it doesn’t try to sweep that away. Instead, it argues that the response should be steady persistence. There is an emphasis on labor—“work and watch”—and on a form of hope that doesn’t depend on immediate results. The “brightening west” is a familiar image, but here it functions as a direction to face rather than an automatic promise of reward. The closing line shifts the ultimate outcome to divine oversight, which serves less as escapism and more as a way of removing the pressure to predict or control everything that comes next.
Taken as a whole, the poem works as a message to a defeated or exhausted community. It doesn’t deny loss or the sharply felt pains of the moment. Instead, it encourages people to accept peace honestly, acknowledge their wounds, and rebuild from what remains. Its strength lies in its refusal to dramatize or inflate the moment. It keeps its focus on resilience that is quiet, practical, and rooted in collective effort rather than glory.