Page:The poems of Richard Watson Gilder, Gilder, 1908.djvu/228

200 Comrades belovèd, see, the fire burns low,

And darkness thickens. Soon shall our brief part

On earth forever end, and we shall go

To join the unseen ranks; nor will we swerve

Or fear, when to the silent, great reserve

At last we ordered—are as one by one

Our Captains have been called, their labors done,

To rest and wait in the Celestial Field.

Ay, year by year, we to the dead did yield

Our bravest. Them we followed to the tomb

Sorrowing; for they were worthy of our love—

High-souled and generous, loving peace above

War and its glories: therefore lives no gloom

In this our sorrow; rather pride, and praise,

And gratitude, and memory of old days.

A little while and these tired hands will cease

To lift obedient or in war or peace—

Faithful we trust in peace as once in war;

And on the scroll of peace some triumphs are

Noble as battles won; tho' less resounds

The fame, as deep and bitter are the wounds.

But now the fire burns low, and we must sleep

Erelong, while other eyes than ours the vigil keep.

And after we are gone, to other eyes

That watch below shall come, in starry skies,

A fairer dawn, whereon in fiery light

The Eternal Captain shall his signals write;

And shaken from rest, and gazing at that sign,

On shall the mighty Nation move, led by a hand divine.