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Our Hero

"Flowers, only flowers - bring me dainty posies,

Blossoms for forgetfulness," that was all he said;

So we sacked our gardens, violets and roses,

Lilies white and bluebells laid we on his bed.

Soft his pale hands touched them, tenderly caressing;

Soft into his tired eyes came a little light;

Such a wistful love-look, gentle as a blessing;

There amid the flowers waited he the night.

"I would have you raise me; I can see the West then:

I would see the sun set once before I go."

So he lay a-gazing, seemed to be at rest then,

Quiet as a spirit in the golden glow.

So he lay a-watching rosy castles crumbling,

Moats of blinding amber, bastions of flame,

Rugged rifts of opal, crimson turrets tumbling;

So he lay a-dreaming till the shadows came.

"Open wide the window; there's a lark a-singing;

There's a glad lark singing in the evening sky.

How it's wild with rapture, radiantly winging:

Oh it's good to hear that when one has to die.

I am horror-haunted from the hell they found me;

I am battle-broken, all I want is rest.

Ah! It's good to die so, blossoms all around me,

And a kind lark singing in the golden West.

"Flowers, song and sunshine, just one thing is wanting,

Just the happy laughter of a little child."

So we brought our dearest, Doris all-enchanting;

Tenderly he kissed her; radiant he smiled.

"In the golden peace-time you will tell the story

How for you and yours, sweet, bitter deaths were ours. . . .

God bless little children!" So he passed to glory,

So we left him sleeping, still amid the flow'rs.