In alien earth, across a troubled sea, <br />His body lies that was so fair and young. <br />His mouth is stopped, with half his songs unsung; <br />His arm is still, that struck to make men free. <br />But let no cloud of lamentation be <br />Where, on a warrior's grave, a lyre is hung. <br />We keep the echoes of his golden tongue, <br />We keep the vision of his chivalry. <br /> <br />So Israel's joy, the loveliest of kings, <br />Smote now his harp, and now the hostile horde. <br />To-day the starry roof of Heaven rings <br />With psalms a soldier made to praise his Lord; <br />And David rests beneath Eternal wings, <br />Song on his lips, and in his hand a sword.<br /><br />Alfred Joyce Kilmer<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/in-memory-of-rupert-brooke/
