Us pass the conscious door;

Our footfall on the floor;

To greet us when we stand;

To us no beckoning hand.

 Faint as the years in which we breathed, Far as the death we died, Dim as the faded battle-smoke, We wander at your side; Cold as a cause outlived, or lost, Vague as the legends told At twilight, of a mystic band Circling an Age of Gold. 

Far as the death we died,

We wander at your side;

Vague as the legends told

Circling an Age of Gold.

 Unseen, unheard, unfelt—and yet, Beneath the army blue Our heart-beats sounded real enough When we were boys like you. We turned us from your fabled lore, With ancient passion rife; No myth, our solemn laying down Of love, and hope, and life. 

Beneath the army blue

When we were boys like you.

With ancient passion rife;

Of love, and hope, and life.

 No myth, the clasped and severed hands, No dream, the last replies. Upon the desolated home To-day, the sunlight lies. Take, sons of peace, your heritage— Our loss, your legacy; Our action be your fables fair, Our facts, your poetry. 

No dream, the last replies.

To-day, the sunlight lies.

Our loss, your legacy;

Our facts, your poetry.

 O ye who fall on calmer times! The perils of the calm Are yours—the swell, the sloth, the sleep, The carelessness of harm, The keel that rides the gale, to strike Where the warm waves are still; Ours were the surf, the stir, the shock, The tempest and the thrill. 

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