The summer's night was falling o'er the Marne, In war-like visage scenes of darkest hue. The ancient river waileth with a charm, Reflecting, blaze on blaze, the fiery view Of thousands, by the millions ranged to fight In empty groves and sanctuaries red With blood. Paris waited in her plight, Patient, all majestic, calm and splendid, Through those maddening hours of uncertainty. Earth and Hell in masterful embrace, Amazed all mortal birth. Anxiety Upon a seat supreme, watched—her face Withered in the loud discordant deep, Profoundly changing from ideal to doubt, As goring engines shrieked and crushed and reaped. Men and horses' armour interlaced, Cursing, creeping, swimming, wading, sinking, With heads all skull-like—voices all confused, O'er torsos, scaled fingers gory joining. A distant crash, to carnage and to strife Beneath the trembling light of pallid moon, Where ages past were masked, then brought to life A double range of horrors there exhumed. The shades of kings like Attila arise In ruddy reflex 'cross his Chalon-plain, Where nights exaggerate the giant size Of human shapes, and mustering ranks aflame, From phantoms' charnel house to warriors', shout. A-sudden midst these teeming Hellish eyes, A central figure stood; said "Turn about!" And drew himself in profile terrible, As fortune swelled and swayed to coming rout Uncertain still, for victory horrible. Those words instant were mightier than arms, For whose command in fire grand France awoke Transfused in bloody wreaths, and deep alarms That echoed forth to Heaven. His legions broke Upon the Hun—pursued and vanquished, gulfed In Chaos. There calm and stern, stood—Victor Joffre. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CHAMBER THICKET by SHARON OLDS WHEN I AM DEAD by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON GOOD-BYE DOROTHY GAYLE: ST. CLOUD, MINNESOTA by KAREN SWENSON VIGNETTES OVERSEAS: 8. FLORENCE by SARA TEASDALE THEY SAY - . by JEAN STARR UNTERMEYER |