He had touched their sword-hilts and greeted each

With the old sure word of praise;

And there was virtue in touch and speech

As it had been in old days.

So he dismissed them and took his rest,

[32]

And the steadfast spirit went forth

Between the adoring East and West

And the tireless guns of the North.

Clean, simple, valiant, well-beloved,

Flawless in faith and fame,

Whom neither ease nor honours moved

An hair's-breadth from his aim.

Never again the war-wise face,

The weighed and urgent word

That pleaded in the market-place—

Pleaded and was not heard!

Yet from his life a new life springs

Through all the hosts to come,

And Glory is the least of things

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