BEFORE ACTION

Now the wind of the dawn sighs,

Now red embers have burned white,

Under the darkness faints and dies

The slow-beating heart of night.

Into the darkness my eyes peer

Seeing only faces steel'd,

And level eyes that know not fear;

Yet each heart is a battlefield

Where phantom armies foin and feint

And bloody victories are won

From the time when stars are faint

To the rising of the sun.

With banners broken, and the roll

Of drums, at dawn the phantoms fly:

A man must commune with his soul

When he marches out to die.

O day of wrath and of desire!

For each may know upon this day

Whether he be a thing of fire

Or fettered to the traitor clay.

Such is the hazard that is thrown:

We know not how the dice may fall:

All the secrets shall be known

Or else we shall not know at all.