Women most sorrowful and good men grim

Carry their poor patched hearts among us here,

Here now, beside you here, limb touching limb,

Eye meeting eye, voice speaking known and near,

But never in your hearing salt or curt.

They do not show their grief by being grave.

It is with common speech they hide their hurt.

These are the brave. These are the truly brave.

Honor them stoutly. Help them. Love then more.

Give what they ask, and do not ask them why,

And when they knock, cry to them at your door,

God rest you merry who will sometime die.

Remember then you know all this is done

In vain for the valiant you yourself are one.