"MANIBUS O DATE LILIA PLENIS" MID the flower-wreathed tombs I stand Bearing lilies in my hand. Comrades! in what soldier-grave Sleeps the bravest of the brave? Is it he who sank to rest With his colors round his breast? Friendship makes his tomb a shrine; Garlands veil it: ask not mine. One low grave, yon trees beneath, Bears no roses, wears no wreath; Yet no heart more high and warm Ever dared the battle-storm. Never gleamed a prouder eye In the front of victory, Never foot had firmer tread On the field where hope lay dead, Than are hid within this tomb, Where the untended grasses bloom, And no stone, with feigned distress, Mocks the sacred loneliness. Youth and beauty, dauntless will, Dreams that life could ne'er fulfil, Here lie buried; here in peace Wrongs and woes have found release. Turning from my comrades' eyes, Kneeling where a woman lies, I strew lilies on the grave Of the bravest of the brave. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE HAPPIEST HEART by JOHN VANCE CHENEY SONNET: 144 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE ALFARABI; THE WORLD-MAKER. A RHAPSODICAL FRAGMENT by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES AN AUGUST VOICE by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING THE BATTLE OF LIEGE by DANA BURNET |