The Great War

from A Treasury of War Poetry, an electronic edition

The Return

I heard the rumbling guns. I saw the smoke.

The unintelligible shock of hosts that still,

Far off, unseeing, strove and strove again;

And Beauty flying naked down the hill

From morn to eve: and the stern night cried Peace!

And shut the strife in darkness: all was still,

Then slowly crept a triumph on the dark --

And I heard Beauty singing up the hill.