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Rudyard Kipling - Evil Land
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We meet in an evil land
That is near to the gates of hell. 
I wait for thy command 
To serve, to speed or withstand. 
And thou sayest, I do not well? 

Oh Love, the flowers so red 
Are only tongues of flame, 
The earth is full of the dead, 
The new-killed, restless dead. 
There is danger beneath and o`erhead. 
And I guard thy gates in fear 
Of words thou canst not hear, 
Of peril and jeopardy, 
Of signs thou canst not see—
And thou sayest `tis ill that I came?
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