Page:Poems Trask.djvu/140

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130
A SOLDIER DEAD.
He was a soldier; shared a soldier's fortune,
And yielded up his life in manhood's prime;
Proud of the honor,—proud to be selected
To die a death so royally sublime!

A fair New England home is drear without him,
Bright eyes are sad with weight of unshed tears;
The memory of his lonely grave will darken
The lives of kindred for these many years.
But let them joy that for their noble country
They had this dear one for a sacrifice;
He is not lost,—the eyes of a great nation
Have marked the lone spot where his mortal lies;—
For, though recorded not on history's tablets,
It is an epoch when a brave man dies!

Yes, leave him there,—the wild and grand Atlantic
Shall sing his dirges now and evermore;
Shall daily chant his requiem, as the surges
Beat up the curvings of the sandy shore.
The strife and tumults of his life are ended;
For him, the "Charge," "Advance," "Sortie," are done;
He'll face no more the hail of hostile cannon,
The smoke of conflict darkens not his sun!
He's scaled the walls, and gained the heavenly bastions;
His peace is come; his bloodless victory's won.