John Bartlett (1820–1905). Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. 1919.
Charles Wolfe 1791-1823 John Bartlett
1 |
Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note, As his corse to the rampart we hurried. |
The Burial of Sir John Moore. |
2 |
But he lay like a warrior taking his rest, With his martial cloak around him. |
The Burial of Sir John Moore. |
3 |
Slowly and sadly we laid him down, From the field of his fame fresh and gory; We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone, But we left him alone with his glory. |
The Burial of Sir John Moore. |
4 |
If I had thought thou couldst have died, I might not weep for thee; But I forgot, when by thy side, That thou couldst mortal be. |
To Mary. |
5 |
Yet there was round thee such a dawn Of light, ne’er seen before, As fancy never could have drawn, And never can restore. |
To Mary. |
6 |
Go, forget me! why should sorrow O’er that brow a shadow fling? Go, forget me, and to-morrow Brightly smile and sweetly sing! Smile,—though I shall not be near thee; Sing,—though I shall never hear thee! |
Go, forget me! |