Beyond the calumny and wrong,
Beyond the clamour and the throng,
Beyond the praise and triumph-song
He passed.
Beyond the scandal and the doubt,
The fear within, the fight without,
The turmoil and the battle-shout
He sleeps.
The world for him was not so sweet
That he should grieve to stay his feet
Where youth and manhood's highways meet,
And die.
For every child a mother's breast,
For every bird a guarded nest;
For him alone was found no rest
But this.
Beneath the flight of happy hours,
Beneath the withering of the flowers
In folds of peace more sure than ours
He lies.
A night no glaring dawn shall break,
A sleep no cruel voice shall wake,
An heritage that none can take
Are his.