_Now it's home again, and home again, our hearts are turning west, Of all the lands beneath the sun America is best. We're going home to our own folks, beyond the ocean bars, Where the air is full of sunlight and the flag is full of stars._ THE UNKNOWN SOLIDER ANGELA MORGAN [Sidenote: November 10, 1921] _This poem was read by the author over the casket of the Unknown Soldier, at the special memorial exercises held in the rotunda of the Capitol at Washington._ He is known to the sun-white Majesties Who stand at the gates of dawn. He is known to the cloud-borne company Whose souls but late have gone. Like wind-flung stars through lattice bars They throng to greet their own, With voice of flame they sound his name Who died to us unknown. He is hailed by the time-crowned brotherhood, By the Dauntless of Marathon, By Raymond, Godfrey and Lion Heart Whose dreams he carried on. His name they call through the heavenly hall Unheard by earthly ear, He is claimed by the famed in Arcady Who knew no title here. Oh faint was the lamp of Sirius And dim was the Milky Way. Oh far was the floor of Paradise From the soil where the soldier lay. Oh chill and stark was the crimson dark Where huddled men lay deep; His comrades all denied his call-- Long had they lain in sleep. Oh strange how the lamp of Sirius Drops low to the dazzled eyes, Oh strange how the steel-red battlefields Are floors of Paradise. Oh strange how the ground with never a sound Swings open, tier on tier, And standing there in the shining air Are the friends he cherished here. They are known to the sun-shod sentinels Who circle the morning's door, They are led by a cloud-bright company Through paths unseen before. Like blossoms blown, their souls have flown Past war and reeking sod, In the book unbound their names are found-- They are known in the courts of God!