DECORATION 
One low grave, yon trees beneath, 
Bears no roses, wears no wreath ; 
Yet no heart more high and warm 
Ever dared the battle-storm, 
Never gleamed a prouder eye 
In the front of victory, 
Never foot had firmer tread 
On the field where hope lay dead, 
Than are hid within this tomb 
Where the untended grasses bloom, 
And no stone, with feigned distress, 
Mocks the sacred loneliness. 
Youth and beauty, dauntless will, 
Dreams that life could ne’er fulfil, 
Here lie buried ; here in peace 
Wrongs and woes have found release. 
Turning from my comrades’ eyes, 
Kneeling where a woman lies, 
I strew lilies on the grave 
Of the bravest of the brave. 
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