Of those who fought and died Unreckoned, undescried, Breaking no hearts but two or three that loved them; Of multitudes that gave Their memories to the grave, And the unrevealing seas of night removed them; Of those unnumbered hosts Who smile at all our boasts And are not blazed on any scroll of glory; Mere out-posts in the night, Mere keepers of the light, Where history stops, let shadows weave a story.