Marching away to Eternity.

II

See the gleam of the white sad faces

Moving steadily, row on row,

Marching away to their hopeless wars:

Drum-taps, drum-taps, where are they marching?

Terrible, beautiful, human faces,

Common as dirt, but softer than snow,

Coarser than clay, but calm as the stars.

[Pg 7]

III

Is it the last rank readily, steadily

Swinging away to the unknown doom?

Ere you can think it, the drum-taps beat

Louder, and here they come marching, marching,

Great new level locked ranks of them readily

Steadily swinging out of the gloom

Marching endlessly down the street.

IV

Unregarded imperial regiments

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