The Song Of The Soldiers

By Walter De La Mare

As I sat mus­ing by the frozen dyke,
There was a man march­ing with a bright steel pike,
Marching in the dayshine like a ghost came he,
And behind me was the moan­ing and the mur­mur Of the sea.

As I sat mus­ing, ’twas not one but ten — -
Rank on rank of ghost­ly sol­diers march­ing o’er the fen,
Marching in the misty air they showed in dreams to me,
And behind me was the shout­ing and the shat­ter­ing of the sea.

As I sat mus­ing, ’twas a host in dark array,
With their hors­es and their can­non wheel­ing onward to the fray,
Moving like a shad­ow to the fate the brave must dree,
And behind me roared the drums, rang the trum­pets of the sea.