Ode
How sleep the brave who sink to rest
By all their country's wishes blest!
When Spring, with dewy fingers cold,
Returns to deck their hallow'd mold,
She there shall dress a sweeter sod
Than Fancy's feet have ever trod.
By fairy hands their knell is rung,
By forms unseen their dirge is sung;
There Honor comes, a pilgrim gray,
To bless the turf that wraps their clay;
And Freedom shall awhile repair,
To dwell a weeping hermit there!
~~
William Collins (1721-1759), 1746
from Poems, 1898
[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]
"How Sleep the Brave" read by Joshua David Robinson. Courtesy Lincoln’sCottage .
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