Dover Beach
The sea is calm tonight.
The tide is full, the moon lies fair.
Across the straits, on the French coast no light.
Gleams now gone, now alone Britain stands.
Against army vast, beyond this serene channel.
Fortified are the beaches, and bitter is the night air.
Men and women in congregations pray,
Know what lies east, upon the wasteland that same moon shines upon.
Whisper to children, their voices drowned by monster's roar,
Already embedded in nightmare.
Here and there soldiers fling pebbles into foam.
Know in their hearts that against coming tide, cannot stand.
Back and forth, drills end, then begin,
Eternal note of sadness has long set in.
A generation ago, a Great War fought.
No ebb and flow in trenches of the wasteland,
No accounting for all of human misery.
Now, new war begun and ended.
Such is in many thoughts,
As they look across this narrow sea.
And what of other lands and peoples,
Those of desert, those of shore?
What fate for them when tide laps forward?
They hear whispers, hear and see fear.
Of retreats, of millions who no longer draw breath,
Or gasp for air in unholy wail.
Many beaches, many lands unprotected.
Naked babes, this fragile race known as Man,
Corruption come for Eden,
In every corner of the world.
In end of days, in love be true,
To another, to the world,
For conquest is not birthright.
Dream before the nightmare come,
Know for certain that there be pain before peace.
That victory may not be achieved,
That the bloodied tide may never be dimmed.
So begins this battle on Albion, where men and women struggle and fight.
Be it under sun of day, or moon of night.