With those that bred, with those that loosed the strife,
He had no part whose hands were clear of gain;
But subtle, strong, and stubborn, gave his life
To a lost cause, and knew the gift was vain.
Later shall rise a people, sane and great,
Forged in strong fires, by equal war made one;
Telling old battles over without hate —
Not least his name shall pass From sire to son.
He may not meet the onsweep of our van
In the doomed city when we close the score;
Yet o’er his grave — his grave that holds a man —
Our deep-tongued guns shall answer his once more!