 | The Collected Poetry of Paul Laurence Dunbar : |  |
Our Martyred Soldiers
In homes all green, but cold in death,
Robbed of the blessed boon of breath—
Resting in peace from field and fray,
Our martyred soldiers sleeping lay.
Robbed of the blessed boon of breath—
Resting in peace from field and fray,
Our martyred soldiers sleeping lay.
Beneath the dew, the rain, the snow,
They heed no more the bloody foe,
Their sleep is calm, to them alone
'Tis giv'n to lie without a moan.
They heed no more the bloody foe,
Their sleep is calm, to them alone
'Tis giv'n to lie without a moan.
The sun may shine in all his might—
They know no day, they know no night,
But wait a still more lasting ray,
The coming of eternal day.
They know no day, they know no night,
But wait a still more lasting ray,
The coming of eternal day.
No longer marches break their rest,
Or passioned hate thrills through the breast,
They lie all clothed in calm repose,
All safe from shots of lurking foes.
Or passioned hate thrills through the breast,
They lie all clothed in calm repose,
All safe from shots of lurking foes.
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The grave's a sacred place where none
Of earth may touch the sleeping one;
Where silence reigns, enthroned, sedate,
An angel guarding heaven's gate.
Of earth may touch the sleeping one;
Where silence reigns, enthroned, sedate,
An angel guarding heaven's gate.
The wind may blow, the hail may fall,
But at the tomb is silence all;
Man finds no nobler place to pray,
Then o'er a martyr's lifeless clay.
But at the tomb is silence all;
Man finds no nobler place to pray,
Then o'er a martyr's lifeless clay.
Sleep on, ye soldiers, men of God,
A nation's tears bedew the sod;
'Tis but a short, short time till ye
Shall through the shining portals flee.
A nation's tears bedew the sod;
'Tis but a short, short time till ye
Shall through the shining portals flee.
And when this memory lost shall be,
We turn, oh Father, God, to thee!
Oh find in heaven some nobler thing
Than martyrs of which men can sing.
We turn, oh Father, God, to thee!
Oh find in heaven some nobler thing
Than martyrs of which men can sing.
| The Collected Poetry of Paul Laurence Dunbar : | |