See, they return; ah, see the tentative
 Movements, and the slow feet,
 The trouble in the pace and the uncertain
 Wavering!

 See, they return, one, and by one,
 With fear, as half-awakened;
 As if the snow should hesitate
 And murmur in the wind,
 and turn half back;
 These were the 'Wing'd-with-Awe',
 Inviolable,

 Gods of the wingéd shoe!
 With them the silver hounds,
 sniffing the trace of air!

 Haie! Haie!
 These were the swift to harry;
 These the keen-scented;
 These were the souls of blood.

 Slow on the leash,
 pallid the leash-men!

Many years ago, when I was preparing for my matriculation at high school, we had an anthology of poems to study. Several have stuck with me through my life for one or other reason. One such is The Return by Ezra Pound. It came to mind the other day when Rumsfeld walked off the stage after announcing his intention to resign.

I can’t remember what analysis we did of the poem, and I’m not sure that I could give any erudite comments on the style. I simply find the rather plain language much more telling of the emotion than in other poems about the horror of war. Just a simple vignette of warriors returning.

— Ray Williams

Links

Biography
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ezra_Pound