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Victory

 All night the ways of Heaven were desolate,
Long roads across a gleaming empty sky.
Outcast and doomed and driven, you and I, Alone, serene beyond all love or hate, Terror or triumph, were content to wait, We, silent and all-knowing.
Suddenly Swept through the heaven low-crouching from on high, One horseman, downward to the earth's low gate.
Oh, perfect from the ultimate height of living, Lightly we turned, through wet woods blossom-hung, Into the open.
Down the supernal roads, With plumes a-tossing, purple flags far flung, Rank upon rank, unbridled, unforgiving, Thundered the black battalions of the Gods.

by Rupert Brooke
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