Explore "In France I Saw a Hill" by Ella Wheeler Wilcox on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
In France I saw a hill-a gentle slope / Rising above old tombs to greet the gleam / From soft spring skies. Beyond these skies dwells hope, / But those green graves bespeak a broken dream.
There was a row of narrow beds, new-made; / Each bore a starry banner and a cross. / And each the name of one who, ere he played / His rôle of warrior, met earth's final loss.
They were so young, so eager for the fray! / And thoughts of glory filled each boyish heart, / When over dangerous seas they sailed away / To face the foe and play some splendid part.
But in the tedious toil, the dull routine / Which must precede achievement on the field, / Disease, that secret enemy with mean / Sly tactics, forced them to disarm and yield.
So they were buried on that hill in France, / Before their ears had heard the battle din; / Before life gave them its dramatic chance- / A lasting fame, or glorious death to win.
Yet, looking up beyond their graves of green, / I seem to see them wearing band and star; / Men are rewarded in the Worlds Unseen / Not for the way they die, but what they are.