Too long a sacrifice
Can make a stone of the heart.
O when may it suffice?
That is Heaven's part, our part
To murmur name upon name,
As a mother names her child
When sleep at last has come
On limbs that had run wild.
What is it but nightfall?
No, no, not night but death;
Was it needless after all?
For we keep faith through the storm
That batters the mad and the blind;
We know the calm of the brave
To mock the leveling wind.
And what if we'd never been called
Out of that darkness that seemed
To cling like smoke to our eyes
And harried the light from our dreams?
I write it out in a verse–
For every soul that has fought
Anons and soldiers alike
And every unyielding heart
Now and in time to be
All who have weathered the storm
Are changed, changed utterly;
A terrible beauty is born.