How Sleep The Brave

Bitterly, England must thou grieve —
Though none of these poor men who died
But did within his soul believe
That death for thee was glorified.

Ever they watched it hovering near —
A mystery beyond thought to plumb —
And often, in loathing and in fear,
They heard cold danger whisper, Come! —

Heard, and obeyed. Oh, if thou weep
Such courage and honour, woe, despair;
Remember too that those who sleep
No more remorse can share.

by Walter de la Mare

Comments (1)

I'm going back to my school days to revive my memories of Walter de la Mare. Where HOW SLEEP THE BRAVE is concerned I find the title far more impressive than the poem. I really don't recognize the poem at all. Has the title been used by other writers? Does it in fact stand by itself?