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Home  »  An American Anthology, 1787–1900  »  447 Decoration

Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900.

By Thomas WentworthHigginson

447 Decoration

MID the flower-wreathed tombs I stand

Bearing lilies in my hand.

Comrades! in what soldier-grave

Sleeps the bravest of the brave?

Is it he who sank to rest

With his colors round his breast?

Friendship makes his tomb a shrine;

Garlands veil it: ask not mine.

One low grave, yon trees beneath,

Bears no roses, wears no wreath;

Yet no heart more high and warm

Ever dared the battle-storm,

Never gleamed a prouder eye

In the front of victory,

Never foot had firmer tread

On the field where hope lay dead,

Then are hid within this tomb,

Where the untended grasses bloom,

And no stone, with feigned distress,

Mocks the sacred loneliness.

Youth and beauty, dauntless will,

Dreams that life could ne’er fulfil,

Here lie buried; here in peace

Wrongs and woes have found release.

Turning from my comrades’ eyes,

Kneeling where a woman lies,

I strew lilies on the grave

Of the bravest of the brave.