No stone is set to mark his nation’s loss, No stately tomb enshrines his noble breast; Not e’en the tribute of a wooden cross Can mark this hero’s rest. He needs them not, his name untarnished stands, Remindful of the mighty deeds he worked, Footprints of one, upon time’s changeful sands, Who ne’er his duty shirked. Who follows in his steps no danger shuns, Nor stoops to conquer by a shameful deed, An honest and unselfish race he runs, From fear and malice freed.
Return to the George Orwell library , or . . . Read the next poem; Our Minds Are Married