Rudyard Kipling

With those that bred, with those that loosed the strife,
  He had no part whose hands were clear of gain;
But subtle, strong, and stubborn, gave his life
  To a lost cause, and knew the gift was vain.

Later shall rise a people, sane and great,
  Forged in strong fires, by equal war made one;
Telling old battles over without hate --
  Not least his name shall pass From sire to son.

He may not meet the onsweep of our van
  In the doomed city when we close the score;
Yet o'er his grave -- his grave that holds a man --
  Our deep-tongued guns shall answer his once more!