Poem of the Week, by Archibald MacLeish
The Young Dead Soldiers, by Archibald MacLeish
The young dead soldiers do not speak.
Nevertheless, they are heard in
the still houses: who has not
heard them?
They have a silence that speaks for
them at night and when the clock
counts.
They say: We were young. We
have died. Remember us.
They say: We have done what we
could but until it is finished it is not
done.
They say: We have given our lives
but until it is finished no one can
know what our lives gave.
They say: Our deaths are not ours;
they are yours; they will mean what
you make them.
They say: Whether our lives and
our deaths were for peace and a
new hope or for nothing we cannot
say: it is you who must say this.
They say: We leave you our deaths.
Give them their meaning.
We were young, they say. We
have died. Remember us.�
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For more information on Archibald MacLeish, please click here: http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/a...
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