Far from the seried ranks you sway, Firm in your own believing In that frail brotherhood, who stray Sore anguishing, sore grieving. Such hands as yours, adown the years Enchain a faith unbroken, They stay the dreary waste of tears, And lift to Hope a token! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOT SIX DIFFERENCES by MARVIN BELL THE GOLDEN CORPSE by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET MY FATHER'S FACE by HAYDEN CARRUTH BEARING LEAVES AGAIN by DAVID IGNATOW THE EXECUTIVE by DAVID IGNATOW TO-MORROW TO FRESH WOODS AND PASTURES NEW' by AMY LOWELL EPITAPH IN A CHURCH-YARD IN CHARLESTON, SOUTH CAROLINA by AMY LOWELL |