They went forth to battle, but they always fell;	 Their eyes were fixed above the sullen shields;	Nobly they fought and bravely, but not well,	And sank heart-wounded by a subtle spell.	 They knew not fear that to the foeman yields,	  They were not weak, as one who vainly wields	A futile weapon; yet the sad scrolls tell	How on the hard-fought field they always fell.	It was a secret music that they heard,	 A sad sweet plea for pity and for peace;	 And that which pierced the heart was but a word,	Though the white breast was red-lipped where the sword	 Pressed a fierce cruel kiss, to put surcease	 On its hot thirst, but drank a hot increase.	Ah, they by some strange troubling doubt were stirred,	 And died for hearing what no foeman heard.
Shaemus O'Sheel
poetry