I
The Dead! Upon a purple-bordered scroll
We wrote their names; then gazed awhile, and said:
"These are the fallen; these, our honored dead,
The silent ones in Death's vast muster roll.
This one was strong and ruddy; that one frail,
Though fleet of foot and keen. The first one met
His fate in that fierce fight at Courcelette;
The other died of wounds at Passchendaele."
And thus we mused, pointing from name to name
With sad, slow count. We spoke of things like grass,
And withered leaves, and faded flowers, birth,
Old age, decay and dust, glory and fame,
And other strange mortalities that pass
At length into the all-insatiate earth.