The Unknown Dead
by James E. Ratigan
Beneath the ragged, straggling boughs
Of three old storm-swept trees,
Unmarked by slab or marble urn,
Six soldiers sleep at ease.
From clang or din or noise of strife
Their souls find sweet release,
Beyond the fray and war of life
A grand eternal peace.
It was not theirs to win renown
To brighten history's pages,
To have their names go thundering down
Through all the coming ages;
No shaft or monumental stone
Is seen above the sod;
Their names, their lives are now unknown
To all except their God.
No mother's tear will mark the place
Where they in quiet sleep;
No sister, sweetheart, friend, or wife
Their patient vigils keep.
No father's moans or brother's sighs
Will stir their last long rest,
But who shall judge their sacrifice
But Him who knoweth best?
And he alone the cause shall try;
We only see a part;
For while man judges by the act,
He judges by the heart.
