Rebellion against death, the old rebellion Is over; I have nothing left to fight; Battles have always had their meed of music But peace is quiet as a windless night. Therefore I make no songs -- I have grown certain Save when he comes too late, death is a friend, A shepherd leading home his flock serenely Under the planet at the evening's end. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CHAMBER MUSIC: 8 by JAMES JOYCE GUNS AS KEYS: AND THE GREAT GATE SWINGS by AMY LOWELL DEDICATION OF THE FIRST SONNETS TO A FRIEND ... by GEORGE SANTAYANA THE BEACON; A MUSICAL DRAMA by JOANNA BAILLIE HERMES OF THE WAYS by HILDA DOOLITTLE |