I, from a window where the Meuse is wide, <br />Looked eastward out to the September night; <br />The men that in the hopeless battle died <br />Rose, and deployed, and stationed for the fight; <br />A brumal army, vague and ordered large <br />For mile on mile by some pale general,- <br />I saw them lean by companies to the charge, <br />But no man living heard the bugle-call. <br /> <br />And fading still, and pointing to their scars, <br />They fled in lessening clouds, where gray and high <br />Dawn lay along the heaven in misty bars; <br />But watching from that eastern casement, I <br />Saw the Republic splendid in the sky, <br />And round her terrible head the morning stars.<br /><br />Hilaire Belloc<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/month-of-september-2/
