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Robert Laurence Binyon - The Zeppelin
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Guns! far and near 
Quick, sudden, angry, 
They startle the still street, 
Upturned faces appear, 
Doors open on darkness, 
There is a hurrying of feet, 
And whirled athwart gloom 
White fingers of alarm 
Point at last there 
Where illumined and dumb 
A shape suspended 
Hovers, a demon of the starry air! 
Strange and cold as a dream 
Of sinister fancy, 
It charms like a snake, 
Poised deadly in the gleam, 
While bright explosions 
Leap up to it and break. 
Is it terror you seek 
To exult in? Know then 
Hearts are here 
That the plunging beak 
Of night-winged murder 
Strikes not with fear 
So much as it strings 
To a deep elation 
And a quivering pride 
That at last the hour brings 
For them too the danger 
Of those who died, 
Of those who yet fight 
Spending for each of us 
Their glorious blood 
In the foreign night. —
That now we are neared to them 
Thank we God.
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