The Fallen

(In Memoriam, May 30) I. TOLL the slow bell, Toll the low bell, Toll, toll, Make dole For them that wrought so well. Come, come, With muffled drum And wailing lorn Of dolorous horn; The solemn measure slow Toll and beat and blow; Put out all glories that adorn The sweet, unheeding morn. Come, come; To the muffled drum And the sad horns Bring flowers for them that took the thorns. Knell, knell; Let the slow bell Be struck and the troubled drum; Come, come, The solemn measure slow Toll and beat and blow; Rebuke this bright, unpitying light. The solemn measure slow Toll and beat and blow For them our beauty and our might Gone on the unreturning way, For them that took the night That we might have the day. II. Hark! voices, joyous voices break From the green martyr-mounds: “Wake, wake! The Lord our God, once more He saith, This hand made all—it made not death. Let the blithe bells ring And the May air sing; Strike the quick drum, Smite sorrow dumb; Blow the glad horn, This glad May morn; Lift the valiant measures high Of the proud earth and sky For them that tent Beyond the firmament, And on the field of light Still gather to the fight. “Blow the glad horn, This glad May morn; Stanch, undaunted measures blow, Gathering courage as they go,— Valiant measures high Carolled of earth and sky; Set the bright, triumphal stave For them that fought so well, That faltered not nor fell; For them and all whereso yon colors wave, Unto the four winds given And the proud earth and heaven. There believe and battle they Whose face is toward the day, The ever-living light, Where is no night, Where is no death nor shadow of the grave.”