16 DECEMBER 1854, Page 32

TO THE FRIENDS OF OUR DEAD HEROES.

Oh wives and mothers ! sisters, brothers, And children of the Dead!

And fathers too—all mourners who Will not be comforted !

Still feeling, o'er and o'er again, Yet warm, the last embrace— Still seeing, though you saw not then, For tears, the parting face— Still dreaming, as you oft will dream, Your happy heroes home—

Still waking, as you oft will wake, To know they will not come !

We thank you sadly o'er and o'er For all you nobly gave; We thank you for the love you bore Your own and England's brave.

Whether on Alma's banks they sleep, Or Balaklava's aide, Or fell on Inkerman's dark steep, Or in the trenches died ;

Or—where the solemn Euxine waves Talk to each silent guest—

Far, far down id the deep sea-caves Now take a sailor's rest ; Or, closed upon a patient bed, More gently-wearied eyes ;- We keep one fame for all the dead, One garland for their prize ; We drop upon their funeral pall One rain of England's tears; We sing one requiem for them all, And every nation hears ! L. El.