II

O nameless Dead of yore and yesterday

Who sleep untroubled in deep quietude,

Long from the sharp alarums of the fray,

You rest so silently in the subdued

Unchanging dusk of dreamless solitude,

How should you know that still the same gaunt war Plows the old field of battle where you stood,

And flings the seed of suffering afar!

Now quiet twilight woos the evening star, Now falls the respite of a silent hour; Inviolate and calm the slumbers are Of saints in holiness, of kings in power,

And calm the legions are that lie in peace,

The dead who sleep the white sleep of the last release.

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