They went forth to battle, but they always fell; <br /> Their eyes were fixed above the sullen shields; <br />Nobly they fought and bravely, but not well, <br />And sank heart-wounded by a subtle spell. <br /> They knew not fear that to the foeman yields, <br /> They were not weak, as one who vainly wields <br />A futile weapon; yet the sad scrolls tell <br />How on the hard-fought field they always fell. <br /> <br />It was a secret music that they heard, <br /> A sad sweet plea for pity and for peace; <br />And that which pierced the heart was but a word, <br />Though the white breast was red-lipped where the sword <br /> Pressed a fierce cruel kiss, to put surcease <br /> On its hot thirst, but drank a hot increase. <br />Ah, they by some strange troubling doubt were stirred, <br />And died for hearing what no foeman heard. <br /> <br />They went forth to battle but they always fell; <br /> Their might was not the might of lifted spears; <br />Over the battle-clamor came a spell <br />Of troubling music, and they fought not well. <br /> Their wreaths are willows and their tribute, tears; <br /> Their names are old sad stories in men's ears; <br />Yet they will scatter the red hordes of Hell, <br />Who went to battle forth and always fell.<br /><br />Shaemas O'Sheel<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/they-went-forth-to-battle-but-they-always-fell/
