<html xmlns:tei="http://www.tei-c.org/ns/1.0"><body><h1 align="center" class="head">Tribute to England's Deathless Dead</h1><div class="stanza"><p class="line">THEY need no dirge, for Spring-time fills </p><p class="line">All things with tribute unto them:</p><p class="line">The music of the daffodils</p><p class="line">Shall be a soldier's requiem</p><p class="line">Among a thousand hills.</p></div><div class="stanza"><p class="line">Blow, golden trumpets, mournfully,</p><p class="line">For all the golden youth far-fled;</p><p class="line">For all the shattered dreams that lie</p><p class="line">Where God has laid the quiet dead</p><p class="line">Under an alien sky.</p></div><div class="stanza"><p class="line">But blow triumphant music, too,</p><p class="line">Across the world, from sea to sea,</p><p class="line">Because the heart of youth was true,</p><p class="line">Because our England proved to be</p><p class="line">Even greater than we knew.</p></div><p class="byline">Mildred Huxley</p>(The <em>Contemporary Review</em>, June, 1915)</body></html> · Great War