He heeds no more your thoughts of praise or blame,
For he hath won for'er a higher fame.
Soldier of cross and battlefield, his death
Hath taught humanity that fleeting breath
Of mortal glory here is but a slender span,
And brief, indeed, on earth the life of man!
Dear earth enfold him in your restful arms
And guard him well, though past are all alarms;
E'en though, while now at rest he calmly sleeps,
The nation weeps! The stricken nation weeps!