A LAURELLED soldier he; yet who could find In camp or court a less vainglorious mind? Sincere as bold, one read as in a book His modest spirit in his candid look. At duty's beckoning alert as brave, We could have wished for him a later grave! A season ere the setting of his sun To rest upon the honours he had won ... Yet let us not lament. We do not weep When our best comrade sinks in fitful sleep, And why indulge regrets if he should fall At once into the sweetest sleep of all? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NOCTURNE IN A MINOR KEY by CONRAD AIKEN REPULSE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE QUARREL by KATHERINE MANSFIELD DOMESDAY BOOK: ELENOR MURRAY by EDGAR LEE MASTERS FROM THE AGES WITH A SMILE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS COLD HANDS WARM HEART by KAREN SWENSON BALLADE MADE FOR HIS MOTHER THAT SHE MIGHTE PRAYE by FRANCOIS VILLON |