Excerpt from Brown Alumni Monthly, Vol. 20: July, 1919
How shall we praise, In this white temple of their boyish days, Our dead who ﬂung away the sun and moon, The shimmering stars, the sapphire after noon, Laughter and love, and left these friendly ways Forever and too soon?
How shall we sing The tragic measures of their suffering, The daring on their desperate duty bent, Our brothers of the fiery battlement? Let the J une winds blow and the tall trees ring For the broken and spent.
At their ease they lie, Tempest and tumult pass unheeded by. Their sight is shut, their hearing stopt, to pan, Familiar Joy beckons them back in vain. Their still hearts leap to Affection's eager cry Never again.
In trench and camp, Beneath the morning dew and midnight damp They gave themselves to set the future free; And in their death that deathless death we see That lights the centuries, like an undimmed lamp, From Calvary.
Their spirits now Like ships, perchance, the ethereal ocean plow.
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