Silent Camp

In heaven, a pale uncertain star,

Through sullen vapour peeps,

On earth, extended wide and far,

In all the symmetry of war,

A weary army sleeps.

The heavy-hearted pall of night

Obliterates the lines,

Save where a dying camp-fire's light

Leaps up and flares, a moment bright,

Then once again declines.

Black, solemn peace is brooding low,

Peace, still unbroken, when

There comes a sound, an ebb and flow-

The steady breathing, deep and slow,

Of half-a-million men.

The pregnant dawn is drawing nigh,

The dawn of power or pain ;

But now, beneath the mournful sky,

In sleep's maternal arms they lie

Like children once again.