(To Alexander Smith) <br /> <br />The stars we saw arise are high above, <br />And yet our Evensong seems sung too soon. <br />Good-Night! I lay my hand-with such a love <br />As thou wert brother of my blood-upon <br />Thy shoulder, and methinks beneath the moon <br />Those sisters, Anglia and Caledon, <br />Lean towards each other. Aye, for Man is one; <br />We are a host ruled by one trumpet-call, <br />Where each, armed in his sort, makes as he may <br />The general motion. The well-tuned array <br />We see; yet to what victory in what wars <br />We see not; but like the revolving stars <br />Move on ourselves. The total march of all <br />Or men or stars God knows. Lord, lead us on!<br /><br />Sydney Thompson Dobell<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/good-night-in-war-time/
