Strong from the hills it comes, and flowing <br />rivers; <br />Swift from the waters of the rising seas; <br />Swift on the chilling heart that waits and quivers <br />With a terror of hideousies. <br />Behind grey mist it comes, and creeping cloud <br />That licks the fading earth with foetid breath. <br />From plains it comes, and silent lakes – a shroud <br />That holds unloosed the damned brigades of <br />death. <br />It sweeps and passes. Everything is dead- <br />Broken with foulness-ravished as it bled! <br />A blow, a weeping! Then a silence lies. <br />Faint bells low-tinkling from the bloody sod <br />Rise from the depths of heart, and touch the skies, <br />And murmur at the very stairs of God.<br /><br />Leon Gellert<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-coming-of-war/
