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A VISION 71
And the grass creeps silently o'er them
Where comrade and foe are blent In God's own peaceful churchyard
When the fire of their might is spent.
But the men who stand to their rifles
See all the dead on the plain Rise at the hour of midnight
To fight their battles again.
Each to his place in the combat,
All to the parts they played With bayonet, brisk to its purpose,
Rifle and hand grenade.
Shadow races with shadow,
Steel comes quick on steel, Swords that are deadly silent
And shadows that do not feel.