HOW SLEEP THE BRAVE
by: William Collins (1721-1759)
- OW sleep
the brave, who sink to rest
- By all their country's wishes blest!
- When Spring, with dewy fingers cold,
- Returns to deck their hallow'd mould,
- She there shall dress a sweeter sod
- Than Fancy's feet have ever trod.
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- By fairy hands their knell is rung;
- By forms unseen their dirge is sung;
- There Honour comes, a pilgrim grey,
- To bless the turf that wraps their clay;
- And Freedom shall awhile repair
- To dwell, a weeping hermit, there!
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POEMS BY WILLIAM COLLINS |
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