When a people reach the top of a hill,
When a people reach the top of a hill,
Then does God lean toward them,
Shortens tongues and lengthens arms.
A vision of their dead comes to the weak.
The moon shall not be too old
Before the new battalions rise,
Blue battalions.
The moon shall not be too old
When the children of change shall fall
Before the new battalions,
The blue battalions.
Mistakes and virtues will be trampled deep.
A church and a thief shall fall together.
A sword will come at the bidding of the eyeless,
The God-led, turning only to beckon,
Swinging a creed like a censer
At the head of the new battalions,
Blue battalions.
March the tools of nature's impulse,
Men born of wrong, men born of right,
Men of the new battalions,
The blue battalions.
The clang of swords is Thy wisdom,
The wounded make gestures like Thy Son's;
The feet of mad horses is one part --
Ay, another is the hand of a mother on the brow of a youth.
Then, swift as they charge through a shadow,
The men of the new battalions,
Blue battalions --
God lead them high, God lead them far,
God lead them far, God lead them high,
These new battalions,
The blue battalions.
poem by Stephen Crane
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Related quotes
It is said that God is always on the side of the heaviest battalions.
Providence is always on the side of the big battalions.
God is on the side of the strongest battalions.
When sorrows come, they come not single spies, but in battalions.
quote by William Shakespeare
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Golden Moonrose
When your eyes gaze seaward
Piercing through the dim
Slow descending nightfall,
On the outer rim
Where the deep blue silence
Touches sky and sea,
Hast thou seen the golden
Moon, rise silently?
Seen the great battalions
Of the stars grow pale ---
Melting in the magic
Of her silver veil?
I have seen the wonder,
I have felt the balm
Of the golden moonrise
Turn to silver calm.
poem by William Stanley Braithwaite
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Prelude: The Troops
Dim, gradual thinning of the shapeless gloom
Shudders to drizzling daybreak that reveals
Disconsolate men who stamp their sodden boots
And turn dulled, sunken faces to the sky
Haggard and hopeless. They, who have beaten down
The stale despair of night, must now renew
Their desolation in the truce of dawn,
Murdering the livid hours that grope for peace.
Yet these, who cling to life with stubborn hands,
Can grin through storms of death and find a gap
In the clawed, cruel tangles of his defence.
They march from safety, and the bird-sung joy
Of grass-green thickets, to the land where all
Is ruin, and nothing blossoms but the sky
That hastens over them where they endure
Sad, smoking, flat horizons, reeking woods,
And foundered trench-lines volleying doom for doom.
O my brave brown companions, when your souls
Flock silently away, and the eyeless dead
Shame the wild beast of battle on the ridge,
Death will stand grieving in that field of war
Since your unvanquished hardihood is spent.
And through some mooned Valhalla there will pass
Battalions and battalions, scarred from hell;
The unreturning army that was youth;
The legions who have suffered and are dust.
poem by Siegfried Sassoon
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The Troops
Dim, gradual thinning of the shapeless gloom
Shudders to drizzling daybreak that reveals
Disconsolate men who stamp their sodden boots
And turn dulled, sunken faces to the sky
Haggard and hopeless. They, who have beaten down
The stale despair of night, must now renew
Their desolation in the truce of dawn,
Murdering the livid hours that grope for peace.
Yet these, who cling to life with stubborn hands,
Can grin through storms of death and find a gap
In the clawed, cruel tangles of his defence.
They march from safety, and the bird-sung joy
Of grass-green thickets, to the land where all
Is ruin, and nothing blossoms but the sky
That hastens over them where they endure
Sad, smoking, flat horizons, reeking woods,
And foundered trench-lines volleying doom for doom.
O my brave brown companions, when your souls
Flock silently away, and the eyeless dead
Shame the wild beast of battle on the ridge,
Death will stand grieving in that field of war
Since your unvanquished hardihood is spent.
And through some mooned Valhalla there will pass
Battalions and battalions, scarred from hell;
The unreturning army that was youth;
The legions who have suffered and are dust.
poem by Siegfried Sassoon
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I pointed out on the floor last year, after Hurricane Katrina, we were very proud that one of our National Guard engineering battalions was called to Louisiana. And they did a magnificent job.
It would take battalions of angels to protect us from our dreaded dangers, though in a long lifetime few of the dangers come to anything.
God is not on the side of the big battalions, but on the side of those who shoot best.
The number of attacks on the American and allied forces is at the highest level since the insurgency began despite the increase of America combat operations and the introduction of some 40 new Iraq security forces and battalions.
quote by Ike Skelton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This coffee plunges into the stomach...the mind is aroused, and ideas pour forth like the battalions of the Grand Army on the field of battle.... Memories charge at full gallop...the light cavalry of comparisons deploys itself magnificently; the artillery of logic hurry in with their train of ammunition; flashes of wit pop up like sharp-shooters.
And the Legions Came
They will come
massed in ranks
battalions and regiments
young men and women enlisted
in a good cause
led by a bespoke
charismatic charlatan
preaching eloquently
about something or other
we can all believe in
for those unpatriotic citizens
who resist the clamorous crowds
camps for re-education will spring up
like weeds in a vacant lot
poem by Michael Pruchnicki
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The Legions Will Come
They will come
massed in ranks,
battalions and regiments,
young men and women enlisted
in a good cause
led by a bespoke
charismatic charlatan
preaching eloquently
about something or other
we can all believe in
they will come
for those unpatriotic citizens
who resist the clamorous crowds -
camps for re-education will spring up
like weeds in a vacant lot.
(Originally posted 16 Feb 2008)
poem by Michael Pruchnicki
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Autumn
October's bellowing anger breaks and cleaves
The bronzed battalions of the stricken wood
In whose lament I hear a voice that grieves
For battle’s fruitless harvest, and the feud
Of outraged men. Their lives are like the leaves
Scattered in flocks of ruin, tossed and blown
Along the westering furnace flaring red.
O martyred youth and manhood overthrown,
The burden of your wrongs is on my head.
poem by Siegfried Sassoon
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The Battle of Sheriffmuir
'Twas in the year 1715, and on the 10th of November,
Which the people of Scotland have cause to remember;
On that day the Earl of Mar left Perth bound for Sheriffmuir,
At the same time leaving behind a garrison under Colonel Balfour.
Besides leaving a force of about three thousand men quartered in different parts of Fife,
To protect the people's property, and quell party strife,
The army along with him amounted to three thousand foot and twelve hundred cavalry,
All in the best of order, a most pleasant sight to see.
The two armies bivouacked near Sheriffmuir during the night,
And around their camp-fires they talked concerning the coming fight.
The Duke of Argyle's English army numbered eight thousand strong,
Besides four hundred horse, posted in the rear all along.
And the centre of the first line was composed of ten battalions of foot,
Consisting of about four thousand, under the command of Clanranald and Glengarry to boot;
And at the head of these battalions Sir John Maclean and Brigadier Ogilvie,
And the two brothers of Sir Donald Macdonald of Sleat, all in high glee.
The Marquis of Huntly's squadron of horse was also there;
Likewise the Stirling squadron, carrying the Chevalier's standard, I do declare;
And the Perthshire squadron formed the left wing,
And with their boisterous shouts they made the welkin ring.
The centre of the second line consisted of eight battalions of infantry,
And three of the Earl of Seaforth's foot, famous for their bravery;
There were also two battalions of the Marquis of Huntly,
Besides the Earl of Panmure's battalion, all men of high degree.
And those of the Marquis of Tullibardine, commanded by the Viscount of Strathallan,
And of Logie Almond, and likewise Robertson of Strowan;
Besides two squadrons of horse under the Earl Marischal,
And the Angus squadron was on the left: these include them all.
During this formation, the Duke of Argyle was watching all the time,
But owing to the ground occupied by them he couldn't see their line,
Which was unfortunately obstructed by the brow of a hill,
At the thought thereof the Duke's heart with fear did fill.
The hill was occupied by a party of Earl Mar's troops looking towards Dunblane,
Which the Earl of Mar no doubt resolved to maintain;
Then the Duke returned to the army, and ordered the drums to beat,
But an hour elapsed before his army were ready Mar's to meet.
As soon as the Earl of Mar perceived Argyle's line was partially formed,
He gave orders that Argyle's army should be instantly stormed.
Then Mar placed himself at the head of the clans, and led forward his men,
As a noble hero would do, which no one can condemn.
Then he pulled off his hat, which he waved in his right hand,
And when he arrived within pistol-shot the Highlanders made·a bold stand,
And they poured in a volley upon the English infantry,
And to the dismay of the Highlanders the English returned fire instantly.
And to the horror of the Highlanders Alan Muidartach was wounded mortally,
Then he was carried off the field, a most pitiful sight to see;
And as his men clustered around him they stood aghast,
And before he died he told them to hold their posts fast.
While lamenting the death of the Captain of Clanranald most pitifully,
Glengarry at this juncture sprang forward right manfully,
And throwing his bonnet into the air, he cried, heroically,
Revenge! revenge! revenge to-day ! and mourning to-morrow ye shall see!
No sooner had he pronounced these words than the Highlanders rushed forward, sword in hand,
Upon the royal battalions with the utmost fury, which they could not withstand,
And with their broadswords among the enemy they spread death and dismay,
Until the three battalions of Argyle's left wing instantly gave way.
Then a complete rout ensued, and the Earl of Mar pursued them half-a-mile;
Then he ordered his men to halt and rest a while,
Until he should put them into order right speedily,
Then follow the enemy at the double-march and complete the victory.
Then the Highlanders chased them and poured in a volley,
Besides they hewed them down with their broadswords mercilessly;
But somehow both armies got mixed together, and a general rout ensued,
While the Highlanders eagerly the English army hotly pursued.
The success on either side is doubtful to this day,
And all that can be said is, both armies ran away;
And on whichsoever side success lay it was toward the Government,
And to allay all doubts about which party won, we must feel content.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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If we slide into one of those rare moments of military honesty, we realize that the technical demands of modern warfare are so complex a considerable percentage of our material is bound to malfunction even before it is deployed against a foe. We no longer waste manpower by carrying the flag into battle. Instead we need battalions of electronic engineers to keep the terrible machinery grinding.
Ernest K. Gann in The Black Watch
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ladybird
Tell me a story of mind over matter
The hope and glory of life ever after
The sound and the fury the cloak and the dagger
Days when we sink like a stone
Porcelain portraits and silver medallions
Plasticine soldiers that march in battalions
Angels of mercy and lifelong companions
Days when we sink like a stone
There a room somewhere with a different look
Where your secret life is an open book
Where the love we made was a chance we took
Days when we sink like a stone
Ladybird fly away our friends are gone
Ladybird fly away our house is on fire
Let us be lovers we'll melt after midnight
Hoist up the mainsail we'll coast through the daylight
Twisted like candles that fade in the half-light
Days when we sink like a stone
Well we die sometimes to begin again
When the same old dreams have the same old end
When we lose our mind or we lose our friends
Days when we sink like a stone
Ladybird fly away our friends are gone
Ladybird fly away our house is on fire
Ladybird fly away our friends are gone
Ladybird fly away our house is on fire
Your friends have gone
Porcelain portraits and silver medallions
Your friends have gone
Plasticine soldiers that march in battalions
Your friends have gone
Angels of mercy and lifelong companions
Tell me a story of mind over matter
The hope and glory of life ever after
The sound and the fury the cloak and the dagger
Ladybird fly away our friends are gone
Ladybird fly away our house is on fire
song performed by by Tears For Fears
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When You See Millions of the Mouthless Dead
When you see millions of the mouthless dead
Across your dreams in pale battalions go,
Say not soft things as other men have said,
That you'll remember. For you need not so.
Give them not praise. For, deaf, how should they know
It is not curses heaped on each gashed head?
Nor tears. Their blind eyes see not your tears flow.
Nor honour. It is easy to be dead.
Say only this, "They are dead." Then add thereto,
"Yet many a better one has died before."
Then, scanning all the o'ercrowded mass, should you
Perceive one face that you loved heretofore,
It is a spook. None wears the face you knew.
Great death has made all his for evermore.
poem by Charles Hamilton Sorley
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Perpetual Thoughts
Perpetual public crowds swarm the sincere areas,
Slippery slopes are for them, a royal hound deplores;
A profuse gathering eliminates me and the rest,
Robust royal battalions begin to shrill and be silent.
Round and shaped like circles, the array joins the people,
In a moment of a revolution, in the moment of thoughtlessness.
The tight-fisted wander and make me a shut-mouthed man,
Threatening me is the tiredness of individuals.
A ruthless scheme is about, tiring us more,
Shocking and secretive are the results.
poem by Naveed Akram
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