Classic Poem

This slender spire of glossy stone,
A nation's emblem poised above,
Speaks it to bleeding hearts alone?
Ensign of sorrow and of love?

Or here, upon this village green,
In half-light of the autumn day,
Meet we to mourn for what has been,
A tale, a triumph passed away?

Yes, more: our gift is generous
As theirs who gave their lifeblood free;
Not to the dead alone, to us
Ourselves, and ours that yet shall be.

We consecrate for distant years —
No idle rite, our deep hearts stirred,
And tenderly, with prayers and tears —
The gleaming shaft! the Eagle bird!