Classic Poem

Long since the ruined town we fled,
And dust heaps mark the spot
Where you and I clasped hands and said,
“My friend, forget me not.”

The shout of War was loud at heel,
The foeman pressed behind;
Then you and I turned round with steel
To meet the Future—blind!

I do not know what foes we fought
Nor when we gained release;
I only know with pain we bought
The ultra-stellar peace.

I touch your hand—old sorrows wake,
Like smoke the long night lifts;
And O, the faint far bugles make
Weird music through the rifts!