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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=400510" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Song of Defeat</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The line breaks and the guns go under, <br>The lords and the lackeys ride the plain; <br>I draw deep breaths of the dawn and thunder, <br>And the whole of my heart grows young again. <br>For our chiefs said 'Done,' and I did not deem it; <br>Our seers said 'Peace,' and it was not peace; <br>Earth will grow worse till men redeem it, <br>And wars more evil, ere all wars cease. <br>But the old flags reel and the old drums rattle, <br>As once in my life they throbbed and reeled; <br>I have found my youth in the lost battle, <br>I have found my heart on the battlefield. <br> For we that fight till the world is free, <br> We are not easy in victory: <br> We have known each other too long, my brother, <br> And fought each other, the world and we. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And I dream of the days when work was scrappy, <br>And rare in our pockets the mark of the mint, <br>When we were angry and poor and happy, <br>And proud of seeing our names in print. <br>For so they conquered and so we scattered, <br>When the Devil road and his dogs smelt gold, <br>And the peace of a harmless folk was shattered; <br>When I was twenty and odd years old. <br>When the mongrel men that the market classes <br>Had slimy hands upon England's rod, <br>And sword in hand upon Afric's passes <br>Her last Republic cried to God. <br> For the men no lords can buy or sell, <br> They sit not easy when all goes well, <br> They have said to each other what naught can smother, <br> They have seen each other, our souls and hell. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">It is all as of old, the empty clangour, <br>The Nothing scrawled on a five-foot page, <br>The huckster who, mocking holy anger, <br>Painfully paints his face with rage. <br>And the faith of the poor is faint and partial, <br>And the pride of the rich is all for sale, <br>And the chosen heralds of England's Marshal <br>Are the sandwich-men of the Daily Mail, <br>And the niggards that dare not give are glutted, <br>And the feeble that dare not fail are strong, <br>So while the City of Toil is gutted, <br>I sit in the saddle and sing my song. <br> For we that fight till the world is free, <br> We have no comfort in victory; <br> We have read each other as Cain his brother, <br> We know each other, these slaves and we.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Gilbert+Keith+Chesterton">Gilbert Keith Chesterton</a><div class=q>
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<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=400510" data-title="A Song of Defeat de Gilbert Keith Chesterton" data-description="The line breaks and the guns go under, 
The lords and the lackeys ride the plain; 
I draw deep breaths of the dawn and thunder, 
And the whole of my heart grows young again. 
For our chiefs said 'Done,' and I did not deem it; 
Our seers said 'Peac..."></div>
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