Classic Poem

Tears will betray all pride, but when ye mourn him,
Be it in soldier wise;
As for a captain who hath gently borne him,
And in the midnight dies.

Fewness of words is best; he was too great
For ours or any phrase.
Love could not guess nor the slipped hound of hate
Track that soul's secret ways.

Signed with a sign, unbroken, unrevealed,
His Calvary he trod.
So let him keep, where all world-wounds are healed,
The silences of God.

He taught us more, this best as it was last:
When comrades go apart
They shall go greatly, cancelling the past,
Slaying the kindlier heart.

Friendship and love, all clean things and unclean,
Shall be as drifted leaves,
Spurned by our Ireland's feet, that queenliest Queen
Who gives not but receives.