Classic Poem

Or must I say, Vain Word, false thought!
Since Prudence hath her martyrs too,
And Wisdom dictates not to do
Till doing shall be not for nought?

Ah blood is blood and life is life:
Will Nature then, when brave ones fall
Remake her work, and songs recall
Death's victim lost in useless strife?

That rivers run into the sea
Is loss and waste, the foolish say,
Nor know that back they find their way
Unseen to where they wont to be.

Upon the hills showers fall; streams flow,
The river runneth still at hand;
Brave men are born into the land
And whence, the foolish never know.

No. No vain voice did on me fall,
Peschiera, as thy bridge I crost:
" 'Tis better to have fought and lost,
Than never once have fought at all."