Classic Poem

“God rest the brave and gallant dead
 Who walked beside us in the fight,
With burning hearts and martial tread:
 To strike for Ireland and the Right.

“We saw them fall, we saw them lie
 Upon the hard, unsheltered street;
Their caoine —the bullets whistling by,
 Their funeral march—our tramping feet.

“No mother's hand upon their brow,
 No wife's fond kiss upon their cheek,
But in our hearts a silent vow,
 The prayer our lips could scarcely speak.

“'Tis good to think, in gloomy days,
 When thoughts of dark despair will rise,
Of those who walked the bloodstained ways
 To meet their death, with glowing eyes.

“'Tis good to think that Ireland's call
 Can gather still the leal and brave,
For her to give their lives, their all,
 And win—a soldier's nameless grave.

“Some day a worthier pen than mine
 Their tale of noble deeds shall tell;
In Ireland's heart their names shall shine:
 God rest them all, God rest them well!”