Hark! 'tis the rush of the horses, <br />The crash of the galloping gun! <br />The stars are out of their courses; <br />The hour of Doom has begun. <br />Leap from thy scabbard, O sword! <br />Leap! 'Tis the Day of the Lord! <br />Prate not of peace any longer, <br />Laughter and idlesse and ease! <br />Up, every man that is stronger! <br />Leave but the priest on his knees! <br />Quick, every hand to the hilt! <br />Who striketh not—his the guilt! <br />Call not each man on his brother! <br />Cry not to Heaven to save! <br />Thou art the man—not another— <br />Thou, to off glove and out glaive! <br />Fight, ye who ne'er fought before! <br />Fight, ye old fighting-men more!<br /><br />Francis William Bourdillon<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-call-38/
