Gerard Manley Hopkins - Peace

When will you ever, Peace, wild wooddove, shy wings shut, <br />Your round me roaming end, and under be my boughs? <br />When, when, Peace, will you, Peace? I’ll not play hypocrite <br />To own my heart: I yield you do come sometimes; but <br />That piecemeal peace is poor peace. What pure peace allows <br />Alarms of wars, the daunting wars, the death of it? <br /> <br />O surely, reaving Peace, my Lord should leave in lieu <br />Some good! And so he does leave Patience exquisite, <br />That plumes to Peace thereafter. And when Peace here does house <br />He comes with work to do, he does not come to coo, <br />He comes to brood and sit.<br /><br />Gerard Manley Hopkins<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/peace-3/