Classic Poem

Somewhere beneath the stars he lies
Whom Earth has taken to her breast,
Nor ever may our tear-dimmed eyes
Behold where now he takes his rest.
No cross records his well-loved name,
No tomb in days to come shall tell
In golden letters of the fame
That crowned him even as he fell.

Yet he is here with us to-day;
A thousand things his touch reveal,
Sweet evidence no cumbering clay,
No unknown sepulture conceal.
In many a heart his grave is green
And sweet with flowers we planted there.
Dear memories of what has been
A wealth of fragrant blossom bear.

What matter if no sign may show
Where rests at last his honoured dust
Whose life and death have bid us know
The strength of perfect love and trust?
'Tis ours to bear before the world
Our part until the goal be won.
The banner that his hands unfurled
Still flies triumphant in the sun!