Falls on the gathering heap above his friend.
Not the deep tolling of the solemn bell
Or martial funeral pomp for fallen chief,
Pall, long procession, pageant, all that tell
The magnitude of a paraded grief;
Not all were worth that solitary tear.
One drop from such a fount would nerve the brave
To court the deadliest danger without fear,
So might such honor wait him at the grave.
Hidden forever now, calm be thy sleep.