After the clangor of battle,
There comes a moment of rest,
And the simple hopes and the simple joys
And the simple thoughts are best.
After the victor's pæan,
After the thunder of gun,
There comes a lull that must come to all
Before the set of the sun.
Then what is the happiest memory?
Is it the foe's defeat?
Is it the splendid praise of a world
That thunders by at your feet?
Nay, nay, to the life-worn spirit
The happiest thoughts are those
That carry us back to the simple joys
And the sweetness of life's repose.
A simple love and a simple trust
And a simple duty done
Are truer torches to light to death
Than a whole world's victories won.