Once, at a battle's close, a soldier met A youthful comrade whom his eyes had missed Amid the dust and tumult of the strife. Flushed with the glow of victory, and proud Of wounds received in presence of his Chief, He spake in tones of triumph to the boy; "I did not see thee in the battle's flame;" The stripling answered:" I was in the smoke." Then, with his hand upon his bleeding heart, He closed his eyes, and suddenly fell dead! So, countless heroes, oft unheeded, fight In Life's grim battle, hidden by the smoke. With patient martyrdom they ply the tasks That God assigns them. Words of sympathy From human lips too seldom cheer their toil, Or help them to be victors over pain. Few mark their struggles in the crowded world— Few soothe their anguish while they inly bleed— And, when they answer to the call of Death, Their names are syllabled on earth no more. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPRING NOTES FROM ROBIN HILL by HAYDEN CARRUTH ADELAIDE AND JOHN WILKES BOOTH by EDGAR LEE MASTERS HOMAGE TO SEXTUS PROPERTIUS: 8 by EZRA POUND AUTUMN MOVEMENT by CARL SANDBURG YOUTH'S IMMORTALITY by GEORGE SANTAYANA MANOKWARI, IRIAN JAYA; IN MEMORIAM, ALFRED RUSSEL WALLACE by KAREN SWENSON |