As bronze may be much beautified By lying in the dark damp soil, So men who fade in dust of warfare fade Fairer, and sorrow blooms their soul. Like pearls which noble women wear And, tarnishing, awhile confide Unto the old salt sea to feed, Many return more lustrous than they were. But what of them buried profound, Buried where we can no more find. Who ( ) Lie dark for ever under abysmal war?