HUSHD be the camps to-day;
And, soldiers, let us drape our war-worn weapons;
And each with musing soul retire, to celebrate,
Our dear commanders death.
No more for him lifes stormy conflicts;
Nor victory, nor defeatno more times dark events,
Charging like ceaseless clouds across the sky.
But sing, poet, in our name;
Sing of the love we bore himbecause you, dweller in camps, know it truly.
As they invault the coffin there;
Singas they close the doors of earth upon himone verse,
For the heavy hearts of soldiers.