"The Rose of Battle"

Rose of all roses, Rose of the world!
You, too, have come where the dim tides are hurled.
Upon the wharves of sorrow, and heard ring,
The bell that calls us on, the sweet far thing.
Beauty grown sad with its eternity
Made you and us, and of the dim grey sea
Our long-ships loose thought-woven sails and wait,
For God has bid them share an equal fate.
And when at least, defeated in His wars,
They have gone down under the same white stars
We shall no longer hear the little cry
Of our sad hearts, that may not live or die.