When by the labour of my thought
I pass from earth and earthly throng,
And see the silent hosts long sought
By Time through all the tide of wrong;
I see the mighty ages roll,
I see the cities sink and fall,
I see the nations rise and scroll
Their pride upon the eternal wall.
And in the hush of deathless years
I hear the feet of armies go;
I see the path of blood and tears
Across the fields of long ago.
The kings are dust, the captains sleep,
The spears are rusted where they lie;
The banners that were borne so high
Are fallen in the grass to keep.
Yet still the patient earth receives
The broken sword, the shattered shield;
And over all her green turf weaves
The quiet of the conquered field.
And men who pass with hurried tread
Across the plain where warriors lay
Know not the dreams of all the dead
That haunt the silence of the day.
So in the stillness of my heart
I ponder on the waste of breath,
The pride that played its useless part,
And fed the ancient maw of death.