Classic Poem

OBIIT 1882.

The lion is dead, and Prussia now can breathe
A little span before her doom draws nigh.
She will not hear thy gallant battle-cry,
Nor will she see thy glittering sword unsheathe.

But thy armed spirit will to the Russ bequeath
Its pristine valor that can never die,
While thy brave grenadiers go hurrying by
Their blades in German carrion to seethe.

Dead art thou not, O warrior! For thy name,
Thy prowess and the memory of thy deeds
Live indestructible through the Czar's domain;
And, in some murderous battle's din and flame,
'Mid sabered Hessians and bewildered steeds,
Thy turbulent ghost shall find its sphere again!