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Feb 01, 2007 10:14 pm
How sleep the brave who sink to rest
By all their country s wishes blest!
When Spring with dewy fingers cold
Returns to deck their hallowed mould,
She there shall dress a sweeter sod
Than Fancys feet had ever trod
By fairy hands their nell is rung,
By forms unseen their dirge is sung;
There honour comes a pilgrim grey,
To bless the turf that wraps their clay
And freedom shall await repair.
To dwell a weeping hermit their!
William Collins ( 1746 )
A beautiful poem by one of the first poets in the Romantic Movement