A World War One poem of conscientious objection
By T.H. Ferris
“Blessed are Ye”
Not iron doors, nor grated window-bars,
Can cage the human spirit that obeys
Love’s holy law, and through the eternal ways
Moves with the even motion of the stars.
The clashing key the prison lock that jars,
The blank succession of the nights and days,
Daunt not the soul whose patience yieldeth praise
To Him whose purpose nothing voids, nor mars.
Each day, each week, each month, doth stronger build —
Against stupidity, and pride, and fear,
And all the Christless gang who blood have spill’d —
Such reckoning as shall bring their judgement near.
The days roll on, that all may be fulfill’d:
Give thanks, O heart, the dayspring dawneth clear!
Published in the collection “Sonnets from Prison” by T. H. Ferris published in Leeds no later than 1915,
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