Saturday, February 13, 2016

We shall not see his like again

 How sleep the Brave
HOW sleep the brave, who sink to rest
By all their country's wishes blest!
When Spring, with dewy fingers cold,
Returns to deck their hallow'd mould,
She there shall dress a sweeter sod        
Than Fancy's feet have ever trod.

There Honour comes, a pilgrim grey,
To bless the turf that wraps their clay;  
And Freedom shall awhile repair
To dwell, a weeping hermit, there!

Antonin Scalia, rest in peace

See also here.