The Night March

With banners furled and clarions mute, An army passes in the night; And beaming spears and helms salute The dark with bright.

In silence deep the legions stream, With open ranks, in order true; Over boundless plains they stream and gleam— No chief in view!

Afar, in twinkling distance lost, (So legends tell) he lonely wends And back through all that shining host His mandate sends.