| George Herbert Clarke, ed. (1873–1953). A Treasury of War Poetry. 1917. |
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| 131. To our Fallen |
| | | By Robert Ernest Vernède |
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| YE sleepers, who will sing you? | |
| We can but give our tears— | |
| Ye dead men, who shall bring you | |
| Fame in the coming years? | |
| Brave souls … but who remembers | 5 |
| The flame that fired your embers? … | |
| Deep, deep the sleep that holds you | |
| Who one time had no peers. | |
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| Yet maybe Fame’s but seeming | |
| And praise you’d set aside, | 10 |
| Content to go on dreaming, | |
| Yea, happy to have died | |
| If of all things you prayed for— | |
| All things your valour paid for— | |
| One prayer is not forgotten, | 15 |
| One purchase not denied. | |
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| But God grants your dear England | |
| A strength that shall not cease | |
| Till she have won for all the Earth | |
| From ruthless men release, | 20 |
| And made supreme upon her | |
| Mercy and Truth and Honour— | |
| Is this the thing you died for? | |
| Oh, Brothers, sleep in peace! | |
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