Halted against the shade of a last hill,
They fed, and lying easy, were at
And, finding comfortable chests and knees,
Carelessly slept.
But many there stood
To face the stark blank sky beyond the ridge,
Knowing their feet had come to the end of the world.
Marvelling they stood, and watched the long grass
By the May breeze, murmurous with wasp and midge,
For though the summer oozed into their
Like an injected drug for their bodies' pains,
Sharp on their souls hung the imminent line of grass,
Fearfully flashed the sky's mysterious glass.
Hour after hour they ponder the warm field, -And the far valley behind, where the
Had blessed with gold their slow boots coming up,
Where even the little brambles would not
But clutched and clung to them like sorrowing hands.[ ] they breathe like trees unstirred.
Till like a cold gust thrills the little
At which each body and its soul
And tighten them for battle.
No
Of bugles, no high flags, no clamorous haste, -Only a lift and flare of eyes that
The sun, like a friend with whom their love is done.
O larger shone that smile against the sun, -Mightier than his whose bounty these have spurned.
So, soon they topped the hill, and raced
Over an open stretch of herb and
Exposed.
And instantly the whole sky
With fury against them; earth set sudden
In thousands for their blood; and the green
Chasmed and steepened sheer to infinite space.
Of them who running on that last high
Leapt to swift unseen bullets, or went
On the hot blast and fury of hell's upsurge,
Or plunged and fell away past this world's verge,
Some say God caught them even before they fell.
But what say such as from existence'
Ventured but drave too swift to sink,
The few who rushed in the body to enter hell,
And there out-fiending all its fiends and
With superhuman inhumanities,
Long-famous glories, immemorial shames -And crawling slowly back, have by
Regained cool peaceful air in wonder -Why speak not they of comrades that went under?
