English poem
Men of Verdun
by Robert Laurence Binyon (1869–1943)
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 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, 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, 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, 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.
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:
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 As in a dream, dilate Fabulous with the Titan-throb Of battling Europe's fate;