In Memorium: Sergeant Pat Tillman
For One Slain in Battle

By George Lunt

BREATHE, trumpets, breathe
Slow notes of saddest wailing,—
Sadly responsive peal, ye muffled drums;
Comrades, with downcast eyes
And banners trailing,
Attend him home,—
The youthful warrior comes.

Upon his shield,
Upon his shield returning,
Borne from the field of honor
Where he fell;
Glory and grief, together clasped
In mourning,
His fame, his fate
With sobs exulting tell.

Wrap round his breast
The flag his breast defended,—
His country’s flag,
In battle’s front unrolled:
For it he died;
On earth forever ended
His brave young life
Lives in each sacred fold.

With proud fond tears,
By tinge of shame untainted,
Bear him, and lay him
Gently in his grave:
Above the hero write,—
The young, half-sainted,—
His country asked his life,
His life he gave!



R.I.P.
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