We are they who come faster than fate
We are they who ride early or late
We storm at your ivory gates
Pale Kings of the Sunset, beware!
Not on silk or in samet we lie,
Not in curtained solemnity we die
Among women who chatter and cry,
And children who mumble a prayer
But we sleep by the ropes of our camp,
And we rise with a shout, and we tramp
With the sun or the moon as our lamp,
And the spray of the wind in our hair!
From the lands, where the elephants are
To the forts of Merou and Balghar,
Our steel we have brought and our star
To shine on the ruins of Rum!
We have marched from the Indus to Spain
And by God we will go there again
We have stood on the shore of the plai
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