T

208 ONE THOUSAND FAMOUS THINGS
Comrades, Farewell
FN a wood they call the Rouge Bouquet
There is a new-made grave today.
Built by never a spade nor pick
Yet covered with earth ten metres thick.
There lie many fighting men9
Dead in their youthful prime3
Never to laugh nor love again
Nor taste the Summertime.
For Death came flying through the air
And stopped his flight at the dug-out stair.
Touched his prey and left them there.
Clay to clay.
He hid their bodies stealthily
In the soil of the land they sought to free
And fled away.
Now over the grave abrupt and clear
Three volleys ring ;
And perhaps their brave young spirits hear
The bugle sing :
Go to sleep ! Go to sleep !
Danger's past ;
Now at last, Go to sleep !
There is on earth no worthier grave
To hold the bodies of the brave
Than this place of pain and pride
Where they nobly fought and nobly died.
Never fear but in the skies
Saints and angels stand
Smiling with their holy eyes
On this new-come band,
Farewell! Farewell!
Comrades true) born anew, peace to you /
Your souls shall be where the heroes are
And your memory shine like the morning star.
Joyce Kilmer
On a Friend Who Fell
O BROTHER, I have sung no dirge for thee :
Nor for all time to come
Can song reveal my grief's infinity :
The menace of thy silence makes me dumb.
Robert Sterling, killed on
St George's Day, 1915