War

Ripples of ribbons borne on high, Bloodstains upon a brazen sky; From cannon belching on the plain, Fire that by fire is fought again. A flash where steel by steel is met; A fume of smoke and blood and sweat. Sharp from the smeared and trodden gorse The death-cry of a wounded horse.

Dust of a plain ground into red By armies of majestic dead. Gaunt shadows on the changeless sky, A flock of vultures swarming nigh. ’Mid ashes where a hearth has stood, Children that cry aloud for food. Where green the peaceful highways run, A woman ravished in the sun. And far across the reeking sod A Nation sounding thanks to God.