WARS OF YORK AND LANCASTER

By William Wordsworth

Thus is the storm abated by the craft

Of a shrewd Counsellor, eager to protect

The Church, whose power hath recently been checked,

Whose monstrous riches threatened. So the shaft

Of victory mounts high, and blood is quaffed

In fields that rival Cressy and Poictiers —

Pride to be washed away by bitter tears!

For deep as Hell itself, the avenging draught

Of civil slaughter. Yet, while temporal power

Is by these shocks exhausted, spiritual truth

Maintains the else endangered gift of life;

Proceeds from infancy to lusty youth;

And, under cover of thiswoeful strife,

Gathers unblighted strength from hour to hour.