On The Western Front
I
I
found
a
dreadful
acre
of
the
dead,
Marked
with
the
only
sign
on
earth
that
saves.
The
wings
of
death
were
hurrying
overhead,
The
loose
earth
shook
on
those
unquiet
graves;
For
the
deep
gun-pits,
with
quick
stabs
of
flame,
Made
their
own
thunders
of
the
sunlit
air;
Yet,
as
I
read
the
crosses,
name
by
name,
Rank
after
rank,
it
seemed
that
peace
was
there;
Sunlight
and
peace,
a
peace
too
deep
for
thought,
The
peace
of
tides
that
underlie
our
strife,
The
peace
with
which
the
moving
heavens
are
fraught,
The
peace
that
is
our
everlasting
life.
The
loose
earth
shook.
The
very
hills
were
stirred.
The
silence
of
the
dead
was
all
I
heard.
II
We,
who
lie
here,
have
nothing
more
to
pray.
To
all
your
praises
we
are
deaf
and
blind.
We
may
not
ever
know
if
you
betray
Our
hope,
to
make
earth
better
for
mankind.
Only
our
silence,
in
the
night,
shall
grow
More
silent,
as
the
stars
grow
in
the
sky;
And,
while
you
deck
our
graves,
you
shall
not
know
How
many
scornful
legions
pass
you
by.
For
we
have
heard
you
say
(when
we
were
living)
That
some
small
dream
of
good
would
“cost
too
much.”
But
when
the
foe
struck,
we
have
watched
you
giving,
And
seen
you
move
the
mountains
with
one
touch.
What
can
be
done,
we
know.
But,
have
no
fear!
If
you
fail
now,
we
shall
not
see
or
hear.