Out of the pregnant darkness, where from fire <br />To glimmering fire the watchword leaps, <br />The dirge floats up from those who build the pyre <br />High and still higher <br />That yet shall blaze across the verminous deeps. <br /> <br />Farewell, O brother-heart, <br />Yet we shall not forget; <br />Though hand from hand must part, <br />Your hope is with us yet. <br />The clank of the swaggerer's sword <br />And clink of the grasper's gold <br />Are not so loud as the lover's word <br />In a thousand echoes rolled. <br /> <br />The lords of the tottering order sit and plot, <br />With cunning courtesy haggling still: <br />The insistent chorus cannot be forgot <br />Its words are shot <br />Like summoning rockets from the eastern hill. <br /> <br />You, it was you who showed <br />How Murder made his pact <br />In busy Greed's abode, <br />Preparing for the act. <br />To save the fatherland <br />They bade your comrades die, <br />And full in their path you took your stand <br />To kill the patriot lie. <br /> <br />Now, lest their flags and bags be lost in flame. <br />The desperate pair have summoned those <br />Whose love is moderate and whose life is tame <br />To quench in shame <br />The light that streams where wind of warning blows. <br /> <br />The ranks of freedom swell, <br />The flag of love rolls out: <br />The efficient ranks of hell <br />Close up in deadly doubt. <br />Moulded in battle's mire, <br />The bullet found its mark; <br />A living spirit, winged with fire, <br />Flares homeward from the dark.<br /><br />John Le Gay Brereton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-dirge/
