Nathaniel Parker Willis (1806–1867)

IT is not the fear of death

That damps my brow;

It is not for another breath

I ask thee now;

I can die with a lip unstirr’d

And a quiet heart—

Let but this prayer be heard

Ere I depart.

I can give up my mother’s look—

My sister’s kiss;

I can think of love—yet brook

A death like this!

I can give up the young fame

I burn’d to win—

All—but the spotless name

I glory in!

Thine is the power to give,

Thine to deny,

Joy for the hour I live,

Calmness to die.

By all the brave should cherish,

By my dying breath,

I ask that I may perish

By a soldier’s death!