TOLL not the bell and muffle not The drum, nor fire the funeral shot; Nor half way hoist our banner now -- Nor weed the arm, nor cloud the brow,-- But high to heaven be raised the eye, And holy be the rapturous sigh: And still be cannon, drum, and bell, Nor let the flag of sorrow tell. Now low are laid their honored forms, But from the clods, and dust, and worms, Their spirits wake, and, breathing, rise Above the sun's own glorious skies. And happy be their airy track-- We may not, would not, call them back;-- For patriot hands may clasp with theirs, And Angel harps may hymn their prayers. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WRECK OF THE DEUTSCHLAND by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS CITY SMOKE by ABBIE FARWELL BROWN THE BLUES; A LITERARY ECLOGUE by GEORGE GORDON BYRON BALLAD TO THE TUNE - 'BUT THAT NE'ER TROUBLES ME, BOYS' by PATRICK CAREY MARI MAGNO; OR TALES ON BOARD: THE CLERGYMAN'S FIRST TALE by ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH LOVE, ALWAYS A TALKATIVE COMPANION by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE GARDEN OF THE WORLD by HILDA CONKLING THE PURGATORY OF SUICIDES: BOOK 7, STANZA 7 by THOMAS COOPER |