George Herbert Clarke, ed. (1873–1953). A Treasury of War Poetry. 1917.
Laurence Binyon
The Healers
I
In the battles of the night.
’Mid the roar and the reeling shadows of blood
They were moving like light,
Tense within the will,
As a lantern under a tossing of boughs
Burns steady and still.
Patient as swift
They bind up the hurts and the pain-writhen
Bodies uplift,
With shrieks in its breath
Bursts stark from the terrible horizon
Impersonal death;
That blinds the hot being;
They take not their pity from weakness;
Tender, yet seeing;
Keen, like steel;
Yet the wounds of the mind they are stricken with,
Who shall heal?
In hell, and not swerve
For an hour from the faith that they follow,
The light that they serve.
That overflows all,
To his spirit erect in the thunder
When all his forts fall,—
They serve and they save.
What song shall be worthy to sing of them—
Braver than the brave?