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Robert Laurence Binyon - Kitchener
Work rating: Low

This is the man who, sole in Britain, sole
 In Europe, by profounder instinct knew
 The strength of Britain; and that strength he drew
 Slow into act, upshouldering the whole
 Vast weight of effort. Eyes full on the goal
 Saw nothing less; he held his single clue,
 Heedless of obstacle; intent to do
 His one task forthright with unshaken soul.

 This is the man whom, dead, the meanest match
 With their own stature; give tongue, and grow brave
 On the imperfection fools have wit to espy.
 His silence towers the grander for their cry,
 Troubling his fame no more than yelp and scratch
 Of jackal could disturb that ocean--grave.
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