When, by a happier race, these leaves are turned,
They'll wonder that such quiet themes engaged
A soldier's mind when noisy wars were waged,
And half the world in one red bonfire burned.
‘ When that fierce age,’ they'll say,‘ went up in flame
He lived... or died, seeing those bright deeds done
Whereby our sweet and settled peace was won,
Yet offereth slender dreams, not deeds, to Fame.’
Then say:‘ Out of the heart the mouth speaketh,
And mine was as the hearts of other men
Whom those dark days impassioned; yet it seeketh
To paint the sombre woes that held us then,
No more than the cloud-rending levin's light
Seeks to illumine the sad skies of night.’