<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=374819" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Young Lieutenant</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The young lieutenant's face was grey. <br>As came the day. <br>The watchers saw it lifting white <br>And ghostlike from the pool of night. <br>His eyes were wide and strangely lit. <br>Each thought in that unhallowed pit: <br>“I, too, may seem like one who dies <br>With wide, set eyes.” </div><div style="margin:10px 0">He stood so still we thought it death, <br>For through the breath <br>Of reeking shell we came, and fire, <br>To hell, unlit, of blood and mire. <br>Tianced in a chill delirium <br>We wondered, though our lips were dumb <br>What precious thing his fingers pressed <br>Against his breast. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">His left hand clutched so lovingly <br>What none might see. <br>All bloodless were his lips beneath <br>The straight, white, rigid clip of teeth. <br>His eyes turned to the distance dim; <br>Our sleepless eyes were all on him. <br>He stirred; we aped a phantom cheer. <br>The hour was here! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The young lieutenant blew his call. <br>“God keep us all!” <br>He whispered softly. Out he led; <br>And over the vale of twisted dead, <br>Close holding that dear thing, he went. <br>On through the storm we followed, bent <br>To pelt of iron and the rain <br>Of flame and pain. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">His wan face like a lodestar glowed <br>Down that black road, <br>And deep among the torn and slain <br>We drove, and twenty times again <br>He squared us to the charging hordes. <br>His word was like a hundred swords. <br>And still a hand the treasure pressed <br>Against his breast. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Our gain we held. Up flamed the sun. <br>“The ridge is won,” <br>He calmly said, and, with a sigh, <br>“Thank God, a man is free to die!” <br>He smiled at this, and so he passed. <br>His secret prize we knew at last, <br>For through his hand the jewel's red, <br>Fierce lustre bled.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Edward+George+Dyson">Edward George Dyson</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=374819" data-title="The Young Lieutenant de Edward George Dyson" data-description="The young lieutenant's face was grey. As came the day. The watchers saw it lifting white And ghostlike from the pool of night. His eyes were wide and strangely lit. Each thought in that unhallowed pit: “I, too, may seem like one who dies ..."></div> </div> </div>

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