Within, the pillars soar to gloom
Lit by the glimmering Rose ;
Spirits of beauty shrined in stone
Afar from mortal woes,
Hearing not, though their haunted shade
Is stricken, and all around
With splintering flash and brutal crash
The ghostly aisles resound.
And there, upon the pavement stretched,
The German wounded groan
To see the dropping flames of death
And feel the shells their own.
Too fierce the fire ! Helped by their foes
They stagger out to air.
The green-gray coats are seen, are known
Through all the crowded square.
Ah, now for vengeance ! Deep the groan :
A death-knell ! Quietly
Soldiers unsling their rifles, lift
And aim with steady eye.
Robert Laurence Binyon
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/at-rheims-23/
