Was it for those echoes alone That your proud shout came and went, That my near airs with your name were rent? Was purpose pipping in the bone Ere clear breakage lamed the story, Castling attacks to faulty defense,- Recovery all the recompense For our having augured glory? Unsmiling in slings and crutches, Fools blown brown by windy time Who'd been sheer kings of summertime Grimacing at lightest touches. Solemn cortËge of cannons mum Roll evermore in breakless line: Wavy Life a funereal sine Unending, and airless, and come. Tacit disaster's stripped to trim belief, Memory turned to slave to serve The forward unknowns of our curve; This is given with what gives grief.