You who dream that their God is dead?

Take your answer—these millions marching

Out of Eternity, into Eternity,

These that smiled "We shall meet again,"

Even as the life from their loved one fled.

XVII

This is the answer, not of the sages,

Not of the loves that are ready to part,

Ready to find their oblivion sweet!

Out in the night there's an army marching,

Men that have toiled thro' the endless ages,

Men of the pit and the desk and the mart,

Men that remember, the men in the street,

XVIII

These that into the gloom of Eternity

Stream thro' the dream of this lamp-starred town

London, an army of clouds to-night!

These that of old came marching, marching,

Out of the terrible gloom of Eternity,

Bowing their heads at Rameses' frown,

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