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.
POEMS BY KENDALL HARRISON
"To a Dead Soldier" is
reprinted from Anthology of Magazine Verse for 1916. Ed.
William Stanley Braithwaite. New York: Laurence J. Gomme, 1916.