HIS death-blow struck him there in the ranks, -- There in the ranks, with his face to the foe: Did his dying lips utter curses or thanks? No one will know. Still he marched on, he with the rest, -- Still he marched on, with his face to the foe, To the day's bitter business sternly addressed: Dead -- did they know? When the day was over, the fierce fight done, His cheeks were red with the sunset's glow; And they crowned him there with their laurels won: Dead -- did he know? Laurels or roses, all one to him now: What to a dead man is glory or glow? Rose wreaths for love, or a crown on his brow: Dead -- does he know? And yet you will see him march on with the rest, -- No man of them all makes a goodlier show, -- In the thick of the tumult jostled and pressed: Dead -- would you know? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WITHOUT CEREMONY by THOMAS HARDY FOR MY OWN TOMBSTONE by MATTHEW PRIOR THE WINDS OF FATE by ELLA WHEELER WILCOX BARCAROLE: DE VIGNY by E. G. B. THE SKY-GYPSY by WALTER BARDECK THE WHITE ROAD UP ATHIRT THE HILL by WILLIAM BARNES |