TO A DEAD SOLDIER

by: Kendall Harrison

HOUGH all the primrose paths of morning called

Your feet to follow them, and all the winds

Of all the hills of earth, with plucking hands

Wooed you to slopes that shone like emerald,

You might not go. The thin green grass that binds

Your feet had Earth and Death to forge its bands.

 

The rain's wet kiss is on your lips, where lay

Once the live pulses of a woman's soul;

Your eyes give back unto the quiet sky

Only the sheen of stars, the glare of day,

Or darkness when the kindly shadows roll

Up from the sea to hide you where you lie.

 

No woman's whisper holds your strong heart spent

And breathless. All the silver horns that blew

While legions cheered, are still. These things are done,

But these you have: a death for monument,

And peace you died to buy, and after you

The laughing play of children in the sun.

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