Alfred Noyes,
Poems of the Great War
(1914)
“ We trust not in the multitude of an host. Nations that greatly builded, greatly stand. In those dark hours, the Splendour of a Hand Has moved behind the darkness, till that coast Where hate and faction seemed to triumph most Reveals itself—a buckler and a brand, Our rough-hewn work, shining o'er sea and land, But shaped to nobler ends than man could boast. ”
