ALTHOUGH they sleep in alien graves afar, <br />Where, restlessly, chill winds we know not roam, <br />When Peace has laid the cruel waves of war <br />They shall come home! <br />Their spirit cannot die, though they be dead, <br />The young, the brave, the noble, and the dear! <br />And we shall know by some sweet influence shed <br />That they are near. <br />Because of them we shall go unafraid <br />And front the Future, strong and valorous; <br />They shall come home, when most we need their aid, <br />And hearten us. <br />What soul we owned we knew not till they died; <br />Upon high nationhood they set the seal; <br />The crude ore taken from the mountainside <br />They wrought to steel. <br />What though they passed in all their pride and power <br />With steadfast tread adown the sunset-track <br />To Glory's gates? — in memory's hallowed hour <br />They shall come back. <br />And they shall give, in place of heart-distress, <br />To kith and kin, tear-worn and sorrowing sore, <br />A sense of reverence and of sacredness <br />Not known before. <br />What though they sleep in unfamiliar earth, <br />Where, restlessly, chill winds we know not roam, <br />To stir our blood to deeds of starry worth <br />They shall come home!<br /><br />Roderic Quinn<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/they-shall-come-home/
