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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=409889" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Fallen Subaltern</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=409889" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The starshells float above, the bayonets glisten; <br> We bear our fallen friend without a sound; <br>Below the waiting legions lie and listen <br> To us, who march upon their burial-ground. <br> <br>Wound in the flag of England, here we lay him; <br> The guns will flash and thunder o’er the grave; <br>What other winding sheet should now array him, <br> What other music should salute the brave? <br> <br>As goes the Sun-god in his chariot glorious, <br> When all his golden banners are unfurled, <br>So goes the soldier, fallen but victorious, <br> And leaves behind a twilight in the world. <br> <br>And those who come this way, in days hereafter, <br> Will know that here a boy for England fell, <br>Who looked at danger with the eyes of laughter, <br> And on the charge his days were ended well. <br> <br>One last salute; the bayonets clash and glisten; <br> With arms reversed we go without a sound: <br>One more has joined the men who lie and listen <br> To us, who march upon their burial-ground.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Herbert+Asquith">Herbert Asquith</a></strong></div>

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