A. E. Housman (1859–1936). A Shropshire Lad. 1896.
XXXV. On the idle hill of summer
O
Sleepy with the flow of streams,
Far I hear the steady drummer
Drumming like a noise in dreams.
On the roads of earth go by,
Dear to friends and food for powder,
Soldiers marching, all to die.
Bleach the bones of comrades slain,
Lovely lads and dead and rotten;
None that go return again.
High the screaming fife replies,
Gay the files of scarlet follow:
Woman bore me, I will rise.