BACK TO LONDON
23
Where the strong man cheerful wakes to toil
And the dead sleep sound i' the earth.
And the dead sleep sound i' the earth.
I have not wept when I have seen
My chosen comrades die;
I have not wept while we have digged
The grave where they should lie;
But now I lay my head in my hand.
Lest my comrades see me cry.
My chosen comrades die;
I have not wept while we have digged
The grave where they should lie;
But now I lay my head in my hand.
Lest my comrades see me cry.
The little children, two by two,
Stand on the five-barred gate,
And wave their hands to waft us home
Like passengers of state;
My heart is very full, so full
It holds no room for hate.
Stand on the five-barred gate,
And wave their hands to waft us home
Like passengers of state;
My heart is very full, so full
It holds no room for hate.
The children climb the five-barred gate
And blow us kisses five,
The little cripple in his car
Waves from the carriage drive:
Blessed are the dead, but blessed e'en more
We soldiers still alive!
And blow us kisses five,
The little cripple in his car
Waves from the carriage drive:
Blessed are the dead, but blessed e'en more
We soldiers still alive!
