When a people reach the top of a hill, <br />Then does God lean toward them, <br />Shortens tongues and lengthens arms. <br />A vision of their dead comes to the weak. <br />The moon shall not be too old <br />Before the new battalions rise, <br />Blue battalions. <br />The moon shall not be too old <br />When the children of change shall fall <br />Before the new battalions, <br />The blue battalions. <br /> <br />Mistakes and virtues will be trampled deep. <br />A church and a thief shall fall together. <br />A sword will come at the bidding of the eyeless, <br />The God-led, turning only to beckon, <br />Swinging a creed like a censer <br />At the head of the new battalions, <br />Blue battalions. <br />March the tools of nature's impulse, <br />Men born of wrong, men born of right, <br />Men of the new battalions, <br />The blue battalions. <br /> <br />The clang of swords is Thy wisdom, <br />The wounded make gestures like Thy Son's; <br />The feet of mad horses is one part -- <br />Ay, another is the hand of a mother on the brow of a youth. <br />Then, swift as they charge through a shadow, <br />The men of the new battalions, <br />Blue battalions -- <br />God lead them high, God lead them far, <br />God lead them far, God lead them high, <br />These new battalions, <br />The blue battalions.<br /><br />Stephen Crane<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/when-a-people-reach-the-top-of-a-hill/
