TOLL not the bell and muffle not The drum, nor fire the funeral shot; Nor half way hoist our banner now -- Nor weed the arm, nor cloud the brow,-- But high to heaven be raised the eye, And holy be the rapturous sigh: And still be cannon, drum, and bell, Nor let the flag of sorrow tell. Now low are laid their honored forms, But from the clods, and dust, and worms, Their spirits wake, and, breathing, rise Above the sun's own glorious skies. And happy be their airy track-- We may not, would not, call them back;-- For patriot hands may clasp with theirs, And Angel harps may hymn their prayers. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...COLUMBUS AND THE MAYFLOWER by RICHARD MONCKTON MILNES AN ORCHARD AT AVIGNON by AGNES MARY F. ROBINSON MAY MORNING by CELIA LEIGHTON THAXTER MORNING MIST by MABEL WARREN ARNOLD THE EMANCIPATION OF HIS MISTRESS' PERFECTIONS by FRANCIS BEAUMONT |