Come phantom feet in the wind tonight and soundless drumbeats roll, As a wistful host of shadow men come marching through my soul. Death marches at the head of them, Death closes every file; Dead men from every rank, and Death reviews them with a smile. This is his endless army. He recruits it as he wills From Armageddon through the years to France's bloody hills. Tonight in grand review he brings his greatest regiment: Men of the Marne, of Meuse-Argonne, those youthful sons you sent Across the sea. Death in command, they grimly march again Down through gray mists of memory and sorrow's silent rain. Your son is there, and I can see my buddy with his squad: Those seven men whose fearless death was a salute to God! They march "Eyes right!" to Death tonight. Tomorrow they will pass In deathless grand review, where crosses strew green plots of grass, Down living lanes of memory, where Love and Grief and Pride Are in each heart's reviewing stand, saluting side by side. Thus once each year these and the rest who died as soldiers do, From Death's encampment march again in silent grand review Through every heart. Yet if we give them only flowers and tears In our salute, what boots their ghostly tramping through the years? O silent host of soldier dead, of wistful shadow men, Our pledge, to ease the watch you tread, "It shall not be again!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: RUTHERFORD MCDOWELL by EDGAR LEE MASTERS PHILLIS INAMOROTA by LANCELOT ANDREWES MONICA'S LAST PRAYER by MATTHEW ARNOLD THE IMPROVISATORE: LEOPOLD by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES LYRIC by WILLIAM STANLEY BRAITHWAITE NOW COMES THE NIGHT by HERBERT GERHARD BRUNCKEN |