THE GERMAN AND THE GAEL
WHEN they go out to battleThey march with pomp and show,And all the fruits of victoryBefore them as they go.Because they dream the fight is theirs,Therefore they will not flee,But we go darkly out to meetThe fate we cannot see.
Their officers and generalsHave nourished them with lies,And waved the torch of victoryBefore their blinded eyes.But we go grimly forward,Believing—come what may,We shall not tread the grass againNor see another day.
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