Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er, Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking; Dream of battled fields no more, Days of danger, nights of waking. In our isle's enchanted hall, Hands unseen thy couch are strewing, Fairy strains of music fall, Every sense in slumber dewing. In our isle's enchanted hall, Hands unseen thy couch are… Continue reading For A Dear Friend: Soldier, Rest!
Those of you who can legitimize the quote mentioned in the title (which is supposed to come from Plato’s Meno), please have at it. I can’t authenticate it. However, the spirit of “bequeathment” is entirely appropriate for what I’m about to say, so I’m going with it. “Pity. Pity he never had any children.” And… Continue reading Bequeathing a Spirit of Reverence