I almost cried as I read this...

Twilight on Sixth Avenue at Ninth Street

by Charles G. D. Roberts

Over the tops of the houses

Twilight and sunset meet.
The green, diaphanous dusk

Sinks to the eager street.

Astray in the tangle of roofs

Wanders a wind of June.

The dial shines in the clock-tower

Like the face of a strange-scrawled moon.

The narrowing lines of the houses

Palely begin to gleam,

And the hurrying crowds fade softly

Like an army in a dream.

Above the vanishing faces

A phantom train flares on

With a voice that shakes the shadows, --

Diminishes, and is gone.

And I walk with the journeying throng

In such a solitude

As where a lonely ocean

Washes a lonely wood.

Prayers

Let the army find us willing and ready
Let the battle go on until the enemy flees from your name
Let us realize that we are fighting now
Let us know and remember that we fight not in game
We fight for the souls of your children, O Lord
For the glory to shine on your name
We fight for their hearts to be not overshadowed
Let us know and remember that we fight not in game
We're bruised, and we're battered, our blood pours like wine
And we fight not to gain our own fame
The shots ring out loudly, the screams and the pain
Let us know and remember that we fight not in game
Let us always keep faith, let us fight with a will
And on you never place any blame
For you are our anchor in this time of blood
Let us know and remember that we fight not in game
For the cries of the victims, the wrath of the foe
For the wounds we receive, fight we maimed
For all that we have always trusted in
Let us know and remember that we fight not in game

Bardy song.

A voice suddenly began to sing.

"You ask where you are, stranger?

This is a land of strife and danger.

Gwladda its name and great its good

A land of dell and swamp and wood

You ask why you're here, oh Dieithryn,

I cannot tell of all the great sin

Just be sure to watch your back

Sing on pitch and steal what you lack

You ask what, and who is speaking

Whom the fear is in you wreaking

I am a Bard, great, loved and feared

I am worshipped like a god, revered

A Bard you ask, why, don't you know?

I'm praised and honored where e'er I go

Be warned, be warned, for evil comes

To those who heed not the song I strum."

There was a silence. He stood, staring openmouthed.

"Not my best work," said the voice, "and not in the traditional rhyme scheme, but I had very little time, you must understand." He felt that he could never speak again. It was all too ridiculous for words.