Sleep, comrades, sleep and rest
       &nbsp On this Field of the Grounded Arms,
Where foes no more molest,
       &nbsp Nor sentry's shot alarms!

Ye have slept on the ground before,
       &nbsp And started to your feet
At the cannon's sudden roar,
       &nbsp Or the drum's redoubling beat.

But in this camp of Death
       &nbsp No sound your slumber breaks;
Here is no fevered breath,
       &nbsp No wound that bleeds and aches.

All is repose and peace,
       &nbsp Untrampled lies the sod;
The shouts of battle cease,
       &nbsp It is the Truce of God!

Rest, comrades, rest and sleep!
       &nbsp The thoughts of men shall be
As sentinels to keep
       &nbsp Your rest from danger free.

Your silent tents of green
       &nbsp We deck with fragrant flowers;
Yours has the suffering been,
       &nbsp The memory shall be ours.