John Gould Fletcher
A Rebel
Tie a bandage over his eyes, And at his feet Let rifles drearily patter Their death-prayers of defeat.
Throw a blanket over his body, It need no longer stir; Truth will but stand the stronger For all who died for her.
Now he has broken through To his own secret place; Which, if we dared to do, We would have no more power left to look on that dead face.