Ode to the Courage of a Warrior Returning from Battle

His battered shield hung on his back
In a loose and bloodstained manner;
Upon his broken spear there hung
A shriveled, tattered banner.
The cloak beneath his shield was torn
And bore much ruddy blood;
His hair was red, his hands were red,
His boots were caked in mud.
His helm was battered, dim and dented,
Hung beside his saddle:
For many a blow had come its way
During the bloody battle.
His gauntlets and his mail were torn,
His tunic and his cloak;
He holds his scabbard in his hand,
And his sword is broke.

This story may someday be lost,
With no one here to tell,
But this warrior's courage should be sung
And, sounding in the dell,
Shall come and be this age's help;
This age's courage too:
Then men will rise in bright array
And glorious deeds they'll do!

T. G. 2014