Decoration Day

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

    Sleep, comrades, sleep and rest
        On this Field of the Grounded Arms,
    Where foes no more molest,
        Nor sentry's shot alarms!

    Ye have slept on the ground before,
        And started to your feet
    At the cannon's sudden roar,
        Or the drum's redoubling beat.

    But in this camp of Death
        No sound your slumber breaks;
    Here is no fevered breath,
        No wound that bleeds and aches.

    All is repose and peace,
        Untrampled lies the sod;
    The shouts of battle cease,
        It is the Truce of God!

    Rest, comrades, rest and sleep!
        The thoughts of men shall be
    As sentinels to keep
        Your rest from danger free.

    Your silent tents of green
        We deck with fragrant flowers;
    Yours has the suffering been,
        The memory shall be ours.