Classic Poem

Low in their uncomplaining places
Lies the dust of forgotten faces,
Under the stars and dews and winds:
Nought their secular sleep arouses;
Fast in their silent earthen houses
Lie the long dead, whom no man minds.

Old are they, and an host unnumbered,
Who in these voiceless homes have slumbered
Under the winds and dews and stars:
Older than they, who heard through thunder
Scythed wheels whirling their foes asunder;
Boadicea's battle cars.

Here they tarry, death's early nations,
Set in their last unchanging stations
Under the skies and winds and dews:
Hour of God! thou waitest to waken
Those the forgotten and forsaken;
They shall hear thee, and not refuse.