Here will they stand at the dead man’s gate
Where the Pilgrims sleep and dream and wait
For the day when the lowly and the great
Are as one at the throne serene.
*****
The land that holds the bones of all their sires
The land they loved despite their hapless lot,
Has kindled once again ancestral fires
And tells these dead they have not been forgot.
And here she sends to her dead exiled sons