“THE MEN WHO LOVED THE CAUSE THAT NEVER DIES”

O come you down from the far hills

Whereon you fought, triumphed and died,

Men at whose names the quick blood thrills

And the heart's troubled in our side.

Your shadows o'er our fields ere night

Draw from the shadow of old trees;

Ghost-hallowed run the streams, and light

Hangs halo-wise in the great peace.

Warriors of England whom we praise

( Ah, vain all praise! ), your spirit is not

Lost in the meanness of these days,

Not wholly is your charge forgot.

And this perplexity of strife

Not all estrangèd leaves our heart;

England is ours yet, and her life

Has yet in ours the purest part.

But come you down and stand you yet

A little closer to our side,

Or in the darkness we forget

The cause for which Earth's noblest died.