| |
| THERE are five men in the moonlight | |
| That by their shadows stand; | |
| Three hobble humped on crutches, | |
| And two lack each a hand. | |
| |
| Frogs somewhere near the roadside | 5 |
| Chorus their chant absorbed: | |
| But a hush breathes out of the dream-light | |
| That far in heaven is orbed. | |
| |
| It is gentle as sleep falling | |
| And wide as thought can span, | 10 |
| The ancient peace and wonder | |
| That brims the heart of man. | |
| |
| Beyond the hills it shines now | |
| On no peace but the dead, | |
| On reek of trenches thunder-shocked, | 15 |
| Tense fury of wills in wrestle locked, | |
| A chaos crumbled red! | |
| |
| The five men in the moonlight | |
| Chat, joke, or gaze apart. | |
| They talk of days and comrades, | 20 |
| But each one hides his heart. | |
| |
| They wear clean cap and tunic, | |
| As when they went to war; | |
| A gleam comes where the medal’s pinned: | |
| But they will fight no more. | 25 |
| |
| The shadows, maimed and antic, | |
| Gesture and shape distort, | |
| Like mockery of a demon dumb | |
| Out of the hell-din whence they come | |
| That dogs them for his sport: | 30 |
| |
| But as if dead men were risen | |
| And stood before me there | |
| With a terrible fame about them blown | |
| In beams of spectral air, | |
| |
| I see them, men transfigured | 35 |
| As in a dream, dilate | |
| Fabulous with the Titan-throb | |
| Of battling Europe’s fate; | |
| |
| For history’s hushed before them, | |
| And legend flames afresh,— | 40 |
| Verdun, the name of thunder, | |
| Is written on their flesh. | |
| |
