IN Collins Street standeth a statute tall,

A statue tall, on a pillar of stone,

Telling its story, to great and small,

Of the dust reclaimed from the sand waste lone;

Weary and wasted, and worn and wan,

Feeble and faint, and languid and low,

He lay on the desert a dying man;

Who has gone, my friends, where we all must go.

There are perils by land, and perils by water,

Short, I ween, are the obsequies

Of the landsman lost, but they may be shorter

With the mariner lost in the trackless seas;

And well for him, when the timbers start,

And the stout ship reels and settles below,

Who goes to his doom with as bold a heart,

As that dead man gone where we all must go.

Man is stubborn his rights to yield,

And redder than dews at eventide

Are the dews of battle, shed on the field,

By a nation’s wrath or a despot’s pride;

But few who have heard their death-knell roll,

From the cannon’s lips where they faced the foe,

Have fallen as stout and steady of soul,

As that dead man gone where we all must go.

Traverse yon spacious burial ground,

Many are sleeping soundly there,

Who pass’d with mourners standing around,

Kindred, and friends, and children fair;

Did he envy such ending? ’twere hard to say;

Had he cause to envy such ending? no;

Can the spirit feel for the senseless clay,

When it once has gone where we all must go?

What matters the sand or the whitening chalk,

The blighted herbage, the black’ning log,

The crooked beak of the eagle-hawk,

Or the hot red tongue of the native dog?

That couch was rugged, those sextons rude,

Yet, in spite of a leaden shroud, we know

That the bravest and fairest are earth-worms’ food,

When once they’ve gone where we all must go.

With the pistol clenched in his failing hand,

With the death mist spread o’er his fading eyes,

He saw the sun go down on the sand,

And he slept, and never saw it rise;

’Twas well; he toil’d till his task was done,

Constant and calm in his latest throe,

The storm was weathered, the battle was won,

When he went, my friends, where we all must go.

God grant that whenever, soon or late,

Our course is run and our goal is reach’d,

We may meet our fate as steady and straight

As he whose bones in yon desert bleach’d;

No tears are needed—our cheeks are dry,

We have none to waste upon living woe;

Shall we sigh for one who has ceased to sigh,

Having gone, my friends, where we all must go?

We tarry yet, we are toiling still,

He is gone and he fares the best,

He fought against odds, he struggled up hill,

He has fairly earned his season of rest;

No tears are needed—fill our the wine,

Let the goblets clash, and the grape juice flow,

Ho! pledge me a death-drink, comrade mine,

To a brave man gone where we all must go.

Poetry Monster – Home

A few random poems:

External links

Bat’s Poetry Page – more poetry by Fledermaus

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Batty Writing – the bat’s idle chatter, thoughts, ideas and observations, all original, all fresh

Poems in English 

• Английская поэзия. Редьярд Киплинг. «Расходы и поступления». (1919-1926). 9. Джейн выходит замуж. Rudyard Kipling. «Debits and Credits». (1919-1926). 9. Jane’s Marriage by Poetry In English
• Английская поэзия. Уильям Шекспир. Сонет 139. Оправдывать меня не принуждай. William Shakespeare. Sonnet 139. o call not me to justify the wrong by Poetry In English
• Английская поэзия. Перси Биши Шелли. К Мэри Шелли. Percy Bysshe Shelley. To Mary Shelley by Poetry In English
• Английская поэзия. Айзек Розенберг. Дочери войны. Isaac Rosenberg. Daughters of War by Poetry In English
• Английская поэзия. Перси Биши Шелли. Тень Ада. Percy Bysshe Shelley. Satan Broken Loose by Poetry In English
• Английская поэзия. Редьярд Киплинг. «Эпитафии Войны». 1914-1918. 1. Убытки поровну. Rudyard Kipling. «Epitaphs of the War». 1914-1918. 1. «Equality of Sacrifice» by Poetry In English
• Lament For The Makers By William Dunbar by William Dunbar
• Done is a battle by William Dunbar by William Dunbar
• Robert Burns: Inscription To Miss Jessy Lewars: On a copy of the Scots Musical Museum, in four volumes, presented to her by Burns. by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: O Wert Thou In The Cauld Blast: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: A Health To Ane I Loe Dear: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: O Lay Thy Loof In Mine, Lass: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Complimentary Versicles To Jessie Lewars: On Her Recovery by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Complimentary Versicles To Jessie Lewars: Jessie’s illness by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Complimentary Versicles To Jessie Lewars: The Menagerie by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Complimentary Versicles To Jessie Lewars: The Toast by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: The Trogger.: Heron Election Ballad, No. IV. by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: A Lass Wi’ A Tocher: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Epistle To Colonel De Peyster: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: The Dean Of Faculty: A New Ballad by Robert Burns

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