When falls the soldier brave
Dead—at the feet of wrong,—
The poet sings, and guards his grave
With sentinels of song.
Songs, march! he gives command,
Keep faithful watch and true;
The living and dead of the Conquered Land
Have now...
From “Sentinel Songs”
THE FALLEN cause still waits,—
Its bard has not come yet,
His song—through one of to-morrow’s gates
Shall shine—but never set.
But when he comes—he ’ll sweep
A harp with tears all stringed,
And the very notes he...
Furl that Banner, for ’t is weary;
Round its staff ’t is drooping dreary:
Furl it, fold it,—it is best;
For there ’s not a man to wave it,
And there ’s not a sword to save it,
And there ’s not one left to lave it
In the blood which heroes gave...
I wish I were the little key
That locks Love’s Captive in,
And lets Him out to go and free
A sinful heart from sin.
I wish I were the little bell
That tinkles for the Host,
When God comes down each day to dwell
With hearts He...
Furl that Banner, for ’t is weary;
Round its staff ’t is drooping dreary:
Furl it, fold it,—it is best;
For there ’s not a man to wave it,
And there ’s not a sword to save it,
And there ’s not one left to lave it
In the blood which heroes gave...
