Between the falling leaf and rose-bud’s breath;
The bird’s forsaken nest and her new song
(And this is all the time there is for Death);
The worm and butterfly—it is not long!
|
The general dashed along the road His blue blouse flapped in wind and wet, |
Father! whose hard and cruel law Unbidden still, the awful slope |
He caught his chisel, hastened to his bench, |
O lifted face of mute appeal! |
I died; they wrapped me in a shroud, |
such is the death the soldier dies: The smoke-wraiths drift among the trees, |
When i forth fare beyond this narrow earth, |
“little haly! Little Haly!” cheeps the robin in the tree; The sunflowers and... |
Just ere the darkness is withdrawn, They clasp their weird and shadowy hands, |