Honor and pity for the smitten field, <br />The valorous ranks mown down like precious corn, <br />Whose want must famish love morn after morn, <br />Till Death, the good physician, shall have healed <br />The craving and the tearspent eyelids sealed. <br />Proud be the homes that for each cannon-torn, <br />Encrimsoned rampart have been left forlorn; <br />Holy the knells o'er fallen patriots pealed. <br /> <br />But they, above the battle, throng a space <br />Of starry silences and silver rest. <br />Commingled ghosts, they press like brothers through <br />White, dove-winged portals, where one Father's face <br />Atones their passion, as the ethereal blue <br />Serenes the fiery glows of east and west.<br /><br />Katharine Lee Bates<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/above-the-battle/
