
This poem is a critique of the failure of the Peace Conference at Brussels to prevent war between Britain and Russia over the issue of the Polish uprising. It portrays the conference as a futile attempt to impose peace on nations unwilling to compromise, highlighting the flaws in the international system that allowed conflict to escalate. The speaker expresses disillusionment with the idea of peace through diplomacy, suggesting that true peace can only be achieved through moral transformation.
By John Greenleaf Whittier · First published 1867 · Genre: Poetry, Political Commentary, Social Critique · 887 words
STILL in thy streets, O Paris! doth the stain Of blood defy the cleansing autumn rain; Still breaks the smoke Messina's ruins through, And Naples mourns that new Bartholomew, When squalid beggary, for a dole of bread, At a crowned murderer's beck of license, fed The yawning trenches with her noble dead; Still, doomed Vienna, through thy stately halls The shell goes crashing and the red shot falls, And, leagued to crush thee, on the Danube's side, The bearded Croat and Bosniak spearman ride; Still in that vale where Himalaya's snow Melts round the cornfields and the vines below, The Sikh's hot cannon, answering ball for ball, Flames in the breach of Moultan's shattered wall; On Chenab's side the vulture seeks the slain, And Sutlej paints with blood its banks again.
The Peace Convention at Brussels is listed on Textopian as an essay by John Greenleaf Whittier, dated 1867 CE.
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Historical Nonfiction · American Literature · 19th Century Writing · Politics · Diplomacy · International Relations · Peace Movement · Conflict Resolution · European History · Brussels · Belgium · United States Foreign Policy