We are they who come faster than fate: <br />We are they who ride early or late: <br />We storm at your ivory gate: <br />Pale Kings of the Sunset, beware! <br />Not on silk nor in samet we lie, <br />Not in curtained solemnity die <br />Among women who chatter and cry, <br />And children who mumble a prayer. <br />But we sleep by the ropes of the camp, <br />And we rise with a shout, and we tramp <br />With the sun or moon for a lamp, <br />And a spray of wind in our hair. <br /> <br />From the land where the elephants are, <br />To the forts of Merou and Balghar, <br />Our steel we have brought and our star <br />To shine on the ruins of Rum. <br />We have marched from the Indus to Spain, <br />And by God we will go there again; <br />We have stood on the shore of the plain <br />where the Waters of Destiny boom. <br /> <br />A mart of destruction we made <br />at Jalula where men were afraid, <br />For death was a difficult trade, <br />And the sword was a broker of doom; <br />And the Spear was a Desert Physician <br />who cured not a few of ambition, <br />And drave not a few to perdition <br />With medicine bitter and strong: <br />And the shield was a grief to the fool <br />And as bright as a desolate pool, <br />And as straight as the rock of Stamboul <br />When their cavalry thundered along: <br />For the coward was drowned with the brave <br />When our battle sheered up like a wave, <br />And the dead to the desert we gave, <br />and the glory to God in our song.<br /><br />James Elroy Flecker<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-war-songs-of-the-saracens/
