The Collected Poems of Rupert Brooke

Victory

   All night the ways of Heaven were desolate,
    Long roads across a gleaming empty sky.
    Outcast and doomed and driven, you and I,
   Alone, serene beyond all love or hate,
   Terror or triumph, were content to wait,
    We, silent and all-knowing.  Suddenly
    Swept through the heaven low-crouching from on high,
   One horseman, downward to the earth's low gate.

   Oh, perfect from the ultimate height of living,
    Lightly we turned, through wet woods blossom-hung,
   Into the open.  Down the supernal roads,
    With plumes a-tossing, purple flags far flung,
   Rank upon rank, unbridled, unforgiving,
    Thundered the black battalions of the Gods.