(For Antoinette)

The stars still marching in extended order

move out of nowhere into nowhere. Look, they are halted

on a vast field tonight, true no man's land.

Far down the sky with sword and belt must stand

Orion. For commissariat of this exalted

war-company, the Wain. No fabulous border

could swallow all this bravery, no band

will ever face them: nothing but discipline

has mobilized and still maintains them. So

Time and his ancestors have seen them. So

always to fight disorder is their business,

and victory continues in their hand.

From under the old hills to overhead,

and down there marching on the hills again

their camp extends. There go the messengers,

Comets, with greetings of ethereal officers

from tent to tent. Yes, we look up with pain

at distant comrades and plains we cannot tread.