Freedom’s Silent Host
By Margaret E. Sangster
There are many silent sleepers
In our country here and there,
Heeding not our restless clamor,
Bugle’s peal nor trumpet’s blare.
Soft they slumber,
Past forever earthly care.
O’er their beds the grasses creeping
Weave a robe of royal fold,
And the daisies add their homage,
Flinging down a cloth of gold.
Soft they slumber,
Once the gallant and the bold.
Oft as Spring, with dewy fingers,
Brings a waft of violet,
Sweet arbutus, dainty primrose,
On their lowly graves we set.
Soft they slumber,
We their lives do not forget.
Childish hands with rose and lily
Showering the furrows green,
Childish songs that lift and warble
Where the sleepers lie serene
(Soft they slumber)
Tell how true our hearts have been.
Wave the dear old flag above them,
Play the sweet old bugle call,
And because they died in honor
O’er them let the flowerets fall.
Soft they slumber,
Dreaming, stirring not at all.
Freedom’s host of silent sleepers,
Where they lie is holy ground,
Heeding not our restless clamor,
Musket’s rattle, trumpet’s sound.
Soft they slumber,
Ever wrapped in peace profound.