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But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on
Country But half of our heavy task was done,
When the clock struck the hour for retiring; And we heard the distant and random gun That the foe was sullenly firing.
Slowly and sadly we laid him down,
From the field of his fame fresh and gory; We carved not a line, and we raised not a stoneBut we left him alone in his glory.
Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er,
Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking; Dream of battle-fields no more,
Days of danger, nights of waking.
In our isle's enchanted hall,
Hands unseen thy couch are strewing;
Every sense in slumber dewing.
No rude sound shall reach thine ear,
Armor's clang, or war-steed's champing; Trump nor pibroch summon here,
Mustering clan, or squadron tramping. Yet the lark's shrill fife may come,
At the day-break, from the fallow,
Booming from the sedgy shallow.
God of our fathers, known of old-
Dominion over palm and pineLord God of Hosts, be with us yet, Lest we forget-lest we forget!
The tumult and the shouting dies-
An humble and a contrite heart.
For Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, Home Lest we forget-lest we forget!
Country Far-called our navies melt away—
On dune and headland sinks the fire-
Is one with Nineveh and Tyre!
If, drunk with sight of power, we loose
Wild tongues that have not Thee in awe-
Or lesser breeds without the Law-
For heathen heart that puts her trust
And guarding calls not Thee to guard-
Where is the true man's fatherland?
In such scant borders to be spanned?
Is it alone where freedom is,
Where God is God and man is man?
Where'er a human heart doth wear
Joy's myrtle-wreath or sorrow's gyves,
Where'er a single slave doth pine,
Where'er one man may help another,-
JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL.