The Great War

from A Treasury of War Poetry, an electronic edition

"How Sleep the Brave"

Nay, nay, sweet England, do not grieve!

Not one of these poor men who died

But did within his soul believe

That death for thee was glorified.

Ever they watched it hovering near

That mystery 'yond thought to plumb,

Perchance sometimes in loath├Ęd fear

They heard cold Danger whisper, Come! --

Heard and obeyed. O, if thou weep

Such courage and honour, beauty, care,

Be it for joy that those who sleep

Only thy joy could share.