The Convalescent

. . . So I walked among the willows very quietly all night;      There was no moon at all, at all; no timid star alight;      There was no light at all, at all; I wint from tree to tree,      And I called him as his mother called, but he nivver answered me.      Oh I called him all the night-time, as I walked the wood alone;      And I listened and I listened, but I nivver heard a moan;      Then I found him at the dawnin', when the sorry sky was red:      I was lookin' for the livin', but I only found the dead.      Sure I know that it was Shamus by the silver cross he wore;      But the bugles they were callin', and I heard the cannon roar.      Oh I had no time to tarry, so I said a little prayer,      And I clasped his hands together, and I left him lyin' there.      Now the birds are singin', singin', and I'm home in Donegal,      And it's Springtime, and I'm thinkin' that I only dreamed it all;      I dreamed about that evil wood, all crowded with its dead,      Where I knelt beside me brother when the battle-dawn was red.      Where I prayed beside me brother ere I wint to fight anew:      Such dreams as these are evil dreams; I can't believe it's true.      Where all is love and laughter, sure it's hard to think of loss . . .      But mother's sayin' nothin', and she clasps - A SILVER CROSS.