Within, the pillars soar to gloom <br /> <br />Lit by the glimmering Rose ; <br />Spirits of beauty shrined in stone <br /> <br />Afar from mortal woes, <br /> <br />Hearing not, though their haunted shade <br /> <br />Is stricken, and all around <br />With splintering flash and brutal crash <br /> <br />The ghostly aisles resound. <br /> <br />And there, upon the pavement stretched, <br /> <br />The German wounded groan <br />To see the dropping flames of death <br /> <br />And feel the shells their own. <br /> <br />Too fierce the fire ! Helped by their foes <br /> <br />They stagger out to air. <br />The green-gray coats are seen, are known <br /> <br />Through all the crowded square. <br /> <br />Ah, now for vengeance ! Deep the groan : <br /> <br />A death-knell ! Quietly <br />Soldiers unsling their rifles, lift <br /> <br />And aim with steady eye.<br /><br />Robert Laurence Binyon<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/at-rheims-23/
