 | Holy of holies |  |
47
XLIII.
[“On, on, ye brave.” The battle thickens fast.]
“On, on, ye brave.” The battle thickens fast.The dense battalions wait. By wall and moat
They hold their rows of steel against our throat,
And shower their hate upon us. The fire-blast
Full in our face in sheets of flame is cast,
And on our running blood the hell-hounds gloat.
'Tis well. Look up, and o'er our head see float
The banner of the future. They are the past.
Look up, calm eyes and brows, a moment gaze
On that, and laugh the whistling bullets by,
Comrades, and with a jest be it unfurled.
Then with shut lips we plunge into the blaze,
Then with a roar as of the crashing sky
We sweep the liar and coward from the world.
March 29th, 1886.
| Holy of holies | |