All the world over, nursing their scars,
Sit the old fighting-men broke in the wars--
Sit the old fighting-men, surly and grim
Mocking the lilt of the conquerors' hymn.
Dust of the battle o'erwhelmed them and hid.
Fame never found them for aught that they did.
Wounded and spent to the lazar they drew,
Lining the road where the Legions roll through.
Sons of the Laurel who press to your meed,
(Worthy God's pity most--you who succeed!)
Ere you go triumphing, crowned, to the stars,
Pity poor fighting-men, broke in the wars!
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Old Fighting-Men by Rudyard Kipling )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
William Ernest Henley
Did you read them?
- A word in your ear, Ponniah Ganeshan
- Crematorium, umaprosad das
- Stupid Illusion, Zillur Rahman Shuvro
- Por Ti Soñaré, Prophmatt . . .
- The color of love, Zillur Rahman Shuvro
- Nightmare, Zillur Rahman Shuvro
- Love and Peace, Akhtar Jawad
- Waiting for someone, Zillur Rahman Shuvro
- Net of Death, Zillur Rahman Shuvro
- Man for Man, Zillur Rahman Shuvro