Red revels, and the seas are darkening
Round all the Asian shores, while one by one
Depart the sweets of Spring.
O you whom yet we mourn, for whom the song
Of victory and sorrow dies not away,
Well is it with you if beyond the grey
Islands of sleep that you are met among
No world-born memories win. May there be none!
We have not remembered long.
Yet if beyond the sunset's golden choir,