No splendid show of solemn funeral rite, <br />No stricken mourners following his bier, <br />No peal of organ reaching thro' his night, <br />Is rendered him whom now we bury here. <br /> <br />'Tis but a soldier stricken in the fight, <br />A youth who flung his passion into life, <br />Flung scorn at Death, fought true for Freedom's might, <br />Till Death did close his vision in the strife. <br /> <br />No splendid rite is here-yet lay him low, <br />Where the sweet brook doth babble by his side. <br />No splendour, yet we lay him tenderly <br />To rest, his requiem the artillery.<br /><br />John William Streets<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-soldiers-funeral-2/
