O guns, fall silent till the dead men hear <br /> Above their heads the legions pressing on: <br />(These fought their fight in time of bitter fear, <br /> And died not knowing how the day had gone.) <br /> <br />O flashing muzzles, pause, and let them see <br /> The coming dawn that streaks the sky afar; <br />Then let your mighty chorus witness be <br /> To them, and Caesar, that we still make war. <br /> <br />Tell them, O guns, that we have heard their call, <br /> That we have sworn, and will not turn aside, <br />That we will onward till we win or fall, <br /> That we will keep the faith for which they died. <br /> <br />Bid them be patient, and some day, anon, <br /> They shall feel earth enwrapt in silence deep; <br />Shall greet, in wonderment, the quiet dawn, <br /> And in content may turn them to their sleep.<br /><br />John McCrae<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-anxious-dead/
