I <br />I found a dreadful acre of the dead, <br />Marked with the only sign on earth that saves. <br />The wings of death were hurrying overhead, <br />The loose earth shook on those unquiet graves; <br /> <br />For the deep gun-pits, with quick stabs of flame, <br />Made their own thunders of the sunlit air; <br />Yet, as I read the crosses, name by name, <br />Rank after rank, it seemed that peace was there; <br /> <br />Sunlight and peace, a peace too deep for thought, <br />The peace of tides that underlie our strife, <br />The peace with which the moving heavens are fraught, <br />The peace that is our everlasting life. <br /> <br /> <br />The loose earth shook. The very hills were stirred. <br />The silence of the dead was all I heard. <br /> <br />II <br /> <br />We, who lie here, have nothing more to pray. <br />To all your praises we are deaf and blind. <br />We may not ever know if you betray <br />Our hope, to make earth better for mankind. <br /> <br />Only our silence, in the night, shall grow <br />More silent, as the stars grow in the sky; <br />And, while you deck our graves, you shall not know <br />How many scornful legions pass you by. <br /> <br />For we have heard you say (when we were living) <br />That some small dream of good would “cost too much.” <br />But when the foe struck, we have watched you giving, <br />And seen you move the mountains with one touch. <br /> <br />What can be done, we know. But, have no fear! <br />If you fail now, we shall not see or hear.<br /><br />Alfred Noyes<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/on-the-western-front/
