A Soldiers Funeral

No splendid show of solemn funeral rite,
No stricken mourners following his bier,
No peal of organ reaching thro' his night,
Is rendered him whom now we bury here.

'Tis but a soldier stricken in the fight,
A youth who flung his passion into life,
Flung scorn at Death, fought true for Freedom's might,
Till Death did close his vision in the strife.

No splendid rite is here-yet lay him low,
Where the sweet brook doth babble by his side.
No splendour, yet we lay him tenderly
To rest, his requiem the artillery.

by John William Streets

Comments (5)

The wish in the last lines is commendable, the way the thought is bent to the main theme is simply superb. the style is, as usual, confident with good lines in tythme 10 from me
all said and done, try to be yourself, wardha!
A delightful piece; be sure to remain true to your inner self - being a poet means putting oneself at risk, so don't let the arrows of criticism pierce your 'writing' heart; nicely conceived.
One day you may be the one- all rolled into one!
My gut feeling says that there is lot more in store; please share all of it Best-rehan