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.