Poetry Archives

What sudden bugle calls us in the night
 And wakes us from a dream that we had shaped;
Flinging us sharply up against a fight
 We thought we had escaped.

It is no easy waking, and we win
 No final peace; our victories are few.
But still imperative forces pull us in
 And sweep us somehow through.

Summoned by a supreme and confident power
 That wakes our sleeping courage like a blow,
We rise, half-shaken, to the challenging hour,
 And answer it—and go.