Written in the Beginning of the Year 1746 by William Collins | Poets.org
January 3, 2013 · 9:57 AM
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How sleep the brave, who sink to rest By all their country's wishes blest! When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, Returns to deck their hallow'd mold, She there shall dress a sweeter sod Than Fancy's feet have ever trod.
By fairy hands their knell is rung, By forms unseen their dirge is sung; There Honor comes, a pilgrim grey, To bless the turf that wraps their clay; And Freedom shall a-while repair, To dwell a weeping hermit there!
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