William Vaughn Moody - On a Soldier Fallen in the Philippines 汉译

Hush for him; hush, be still!

He comes, who was stricken down

Doing the word of our will.

Hush! Let him have his state,

Give him his soldier’s crown,

The grists of trade can wait

Their grinding at the mill,

But he cannot wait for his honor, now the trumpet

has been blown,

Wreathe pride now for his grantie brow, lay love

on his breast of stone.

Toll! Let the great bells toll

Till the clashing air is dim.

Did we wrong this parted soul?

We will make it up to him.

Toll! Let him never guess

What work we sent him to.

Laurel, laurel, yes;

He did what we bade him do.

Praise, and never a whispered hint but the fight

he fought was good;

Never a word that the blood on his sword was his

country’s own heart’s-blood.

A flag for the soldier’s bier

Who dies that his land may live;

O, banners, banners here,

That he doubt not nor misgive!

That he heed not from the tomb

The evil days draw near

When the nation, robed in gloom,

With its faithless past shall strive,

Let him never dream that his bullet’s scream went

wide of its island mark,

Home to the heart of his darling land where she

stumbled and sinned in the dark.