Thomas Moore: No trophies but of Love

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Anti-war essays, poems, short stories and literary excerpts

British writers on peace and war

Thomas More: Battles result from lust for fame and glory

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Thomas Moore
How Lightly Mounts the Muse’s Wing

How lightly mounts the Muse’s wing,
Whose theme is in the skies –
Like morning larks that sweeter sing
The nearer Heaven they rise,

Tho’ love his magic lyre may tune,
Yet ah, the flowers he round it wreathes,
Were plucked beneath pale Passion’s moon,
Whose madness in their ode breathes.

How purer far the sacred lute,
Round which Devotion ties
Sweet flowers that turn to heavenly fruit,
And palm that never dies.

Tho’ War’s high-sounding harp may be
Most welcome to the hero’s ears,
Alas, his chords of victory
Are wet, all o’er, with human tears.

How far more sweet their numbers run,
Who hymn like Saints above,
No victor but the Eternal One,
No trophies but of Love!