Sara Teasdale: The Silent Battle

The Silent Battle

(In Memory of J. W. T. Jr.)

He was a soldier in that fight  Where there is neither flag nor drum, And without sound of musketry  The stealthy foemen come.
Year in, year out, by day and night  They forced him to a slow retreat, And for his gallant fight alone  No fife was blown, and no drum beat.
In winter fog, in gathering mist  The gray grim battle had its end — And at the very last we knew  His enemy had turned his friend.