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Poem by Joyce Kilmer


In Memory of Rupert Brooke


In alien earth, across a troubled sea,
His body lies that was so fair and young.
His mouth is stopped, with half his songs unsung;
His arm is still, that struck to make men free.
But let no cloud of lamentation be
Where, on a warriors grave, a lyre is hung.
We keep the echoes of his golden tongue,
We keep the vision of his chivalry.
So Israels joy, the loveliest of kings,
Smote now his harp, and now the hostile horde.
To-day the starry roof of Heaven rings
With psalms a soldier made to praise his Lord;
And David rests beneath Eternal wings,
Song on his lips, and in his hand a sword.



Joyce Kilmer


Joyce Kilmer's other poems:
  1. The Robe of Christ
  2. Madness
  3. In Memory
  4. The Proud Poet
  5. Queen Elizabeth Speaks


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