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5i6 THE GOLDEN TREASURY OF |
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IV
Few and short were the prayers we said, And we spoke not a word of sorrow;
But we steadfastly gazed on the face that was dead, And we bitterly thought of the morrow.
v
We thought, as we hallowed his narrow bed, And smoothed down his lonely pillow,
That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head, And we far away on the billow !
VI
Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him;
But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on In the grave where a Briton has laid him.
a VII
But half of our heavy task was done
When the clock struck the hour for retiring,
And we heard the distant and random gun That the foe was sullenly firing.
VIII
Slowly and sadly we laid him down
From the field of his fame fresh and gory;
We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone — But we left him alone with his glory ! |
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