Classic Poem

The man who this day sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother, said the warrior King:
And as I lie, alone and languishing,
Deep-smitten on the field, and when I see
The life-blood flowing, and the cruel glee
Of them that pass unsmitten: when the sting
Is keenest, and Despair with vulture wing
Hovers near by, and watches greedily: —

Then I bethink me of the brave and fair,
Who strove as I did, and who fell as I,
Not idly, not ignobly, not in vain;
And, pointing to my bleeding wounds, I dare
To ask a place in that high company,
And claim a proud companionship of pain.