Ye sleepers, who will sing you?
We can but give our tears
--
Ye dead men, who shall bring
you
Fame in the coming
years?
Brave souls . . . but who
remembers
The flame that fired your
embers? . . .
Deep, deep the sleep that holds
you
Who one time had no
peers.
Yet maybe Fame's but seeming
And praise you'd set
aside,
Content to go on dreaming,
Yea, happy to have died
If of all things you prayed for --
All things your valour paid for --
One prayer is not forgotten,
One purchase not denied.
But God grants your dear
England
A strength that shall not
cease
Till she have won for all the
Earth
From ruthless men
release,
And made supreme upon her
Mercy and Truth and Honour --
Is this the thing you died for?
Oh, Brothers, sleep in
peace!
By: Robert Ernest Vernède
