IT seemed to be but chance, yet who shall say That 't was not part of Nature 's own sweet way, That on the field where once the cannon's breath Laid many a hero cold and stark in death, Some little children, in the after-years, Had come to play among the grassy spears, And, all unheeding, when their romp was done, Had left a wreath of wild flowers over one Who fought to save his country, and whose lot It was to die unknown and rest forgot? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GOOD-BY AND KEEP COLD by ROBERT FROST UNDER HOUSE ARREST IN WINDSOR by HENRY HOWARD LEAVE A KISS WITHIN THE CUP by AGATHIAS SCHOLASTICUS QUITS by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH SYMPHONY OF THE SOIL by EVA K. ANGLESBURG LA BEAUTE by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 53. FAREWELL TO JULIET (15) by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT TO A FRIEND by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE ON SEEING THE BEAUTIFUL SEAT OF LORD GALLOWAY by ROBERT BURNS |