BUT do we truly mourn our soldier dead, Or understand at all their precious fame -- We that were born too late to feel the flame That leapt from lowly hearths, and grew, dispread, And, like a pillar of fire, our armies led? Or you that knew them -- do the long years tame The memory-anguish? Are they more than name? Oh, let no stinted grief profane their bed! Let tears bedew each wreath that decks the lawn Of every grave! and raise a solemn prayer That their battalioned souls be joined to fare Dim roads, beyond the trumpets of the dawn, Yet perfumed, somehow, by our flowers that heap The peaceful barracks where their bodies sleep. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNET: CUPID AND VENUS by MARK ALEXANDER BOYD A BALLADE OF SUICIDE by GILBERT KEITH CHESTERTON ODE TO FORTUNE by FITZ-GREENE HALLECK SONNET: 53 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE UNDERWOODS: BOOK 1: 6. A VISIT FROM THE SEA by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON |