Evil Land

by Rudyard Kipling

　　

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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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