In heaven, a pale uncertain star, <br />Through sullen vapour peeps, <br />On earth, extended wide and far, <br />In all the symmetry of war, <br />A weary army sleeps. <br /> <br />The heavy-hearted pall of night <br />Obliterates the lines, <br />Save where a dying camp-fire's light <br />Leaps up and flares, a moment bright, <br />Then once again declines. <br /> <br />Black, solemn peace is brooding low, <br />Peace, still unbroken, when <br />There comes a sound, an ebb and flow- <br />The steady breathing, deep and slow, <br />Of half-a-million men. <br /> <br />The pregnant dawn is drawing nigh, <br />The dawn of power or pain ; <br />But now, beneath the mournful sky, <br />In sleep's maternal arms they lie <br />Like children once again.<br /><br />Jessie Pope<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/silent-camp/
