The Night March

With banners furled and clarions mute,
  An army passes in the night;
And beaming spears and helms salute
  The dark with bright.



In silence deep the legions stream,
  With open ranks, in order true;
Over boundless plains they stream and
    gleam--
  No chief in view!
Afar, in twinkling distance lost,
  (So legends tell) he lonely wends
And back through all that shining host
  His mandate sends.