A leaping wind from England, <br />The skies without a stain, <br />Clean cut against the morning <br />Slim poplars after rain, <br />The foolish noise of sparrows <br />And starlings in a wood - <br />After the grime of battle <br />We know that these are good. <br /> <br />Death whining down from heaven, <br />Death roaring from the ground, <br />Death stinking in the nostril, <br />Death shrill in every sound, <br />Doubting we charged and conquered - <br />Hopeless we struck and stood; <br />Now when the fight is ended <br />We know that it was good. <br /> <br />We that have seen the strongest <br />Cry like a beaten child, <br />The sanest eyes unholy, <br />The cleanest hands defiled, <br />We that have known the heart-blood <br />Less than the lees of wine, <br />We that have seen men broken, <br />We know that man is divine.<br /><br />William Noel Hodgson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/back-to-rest/
