Classic Poem

Among the dead our Brothers sleep,
Their lives were rounded true and well;
And Love in bitter sorrow weeps
Above their dark and silent cell.

No pain, no anxious sleepless Fear
Invades their house; no mortal woes
Their narrow resting-place come near,
To trouble their serene repose.

Their names are graven on the stones
That friendship's tears will often wet;
But each true Brother's heart upon
That name is stamped more deeply yet.

As Hiram slept, the widow's son,
So do our Brothers take their rest;
Life's battle fought, Life's duties done,
Their faults forgot, their worth confessed.

So let them sleep that dreamless sleep,
Our sorrows clustering round each head;
Be comforted, ye loved, who weep!
They live with God; they are not dead.