Simonides of Cos on the Spartan Dead at Plataea
These soldiers put on death, that misted cloak,
Their mortal metal sublimated to
What some call glory. First we have to soak
The fog of war in honor, scarlet, blue
And gold. The platinum of courage formed
The basis of the garment, noble, strong.
When death comes, cloth and colors all are warmed
Immortally. Brocade like this holds long
The meaning of these men there in their tomb.
The fact that fabric such as this is held
In haze of memory cedes the men more room
As centuries pass. Forgetting is repelled.
We cannot hold each hero whole, entire,
But we can fashion mists to shine like fire.