THE NIGHT MARCH

With banners furled and clarions mute,

An army passes in the night;

And beaming spears and helms salute

The dark with bright.

In silence deep the legions stream,

With open ranks, in order true;

Over boundless plains they stream and gleam —

No chief in view!

Afar, in twinkling distance lost,

( So legends tell ) he lonely wends

And back through all that shining host

His mandate sends.