Classic Poem

No longer heed we war and strife,
No longer pace your petty life;
We are the dead, O ye who live,
We are the dead who life did give
That peace might reign!

Bring us your wreath and wordy praise;
We note them, yes—but we whose days
Are gone cry from the graves we fill,
“Where is the peace, the love, good will
We died to gain?”

Shall we forever cry from sod,
“What have we perished for, O God?
Died we that men might scheme and plot
And riches heap while virtues rot—
Died we in vain?”

If ye who live heed not our cry
And rise not from your muck and sty,
Our souls shall march, a phalanx stern,
God's searing truth on you to burn!
Thus speak the slain.

No longer heed we war and strife,
No longer pace your petty life;
We are the dead, O ye who live,
We are the dead who life did give
——That peace might reign!

Bring us your wreath and wordy praise;
We note them, yes—but we whose days
Are gone cry from the graves we fill,
“Where is the peace, the love, good will
——We died to gain?”

Shall we forever cry from sod,
“What have we perished for, O God?
Died we that men might scheme and plot
And riches heap while virtues rot—
——Died we in vain?”

If ye who live heed not our cry
And rise not from your muck and sty,
Our souls shall march, a phalanx stern,
God's searing truth on you to burn!
——Thus speak the slain.