Mourn not the dead that in the cool earth

Dust unto dust— The calm, sweet earth that mothers all who | die | As all men must | Mourn not your captive comrades who must | dwell— | Too strong to strive— Within each steel-bound coffin of a cell, Buried alive | But rather mourn the apathetic throng— The cowed and the meek— Who see the world’s great anguish and its | wrong | And dare not speak! | Mourn Not The Dead