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 | The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere |  |
That morn by one,
A beauteous English boy—her sword had saved him
In battle's fiercest, and he loved her well—
She sent a message to old Baudricourt,
A message, for she ne'er had learned to write:
‘Farewell, true friend! That eve we spake together
You thus addressed me: “God has given you Faith:
Pray God it walk beside you all your life,
Sustain you at your death!”
At that word “death” a tear was in your eye;
I marked it, and I should have thanked you for it.
I thank you for it now.’ To those her dearest
Her words were few:—‘God's work is worked, thank God!
O what a meeting will be ours in heaven!
Till then rejoice! O father! and O mother!
O sister mine, farewell!’
A beauteous English boy—her sword had saved him
In battle's fiercest, and he loved her well—
She sent a message to old Baudricourt,
A message, for she ne'er had learned to write:
‘Farewell, true friend! That eve we spake together
You thus addressed me: “God has given you Faith:
Pray God it walk beside you all your life,
Sustain you at your death!”
At that word “death” a tear was in your eye;
352
I thank you for it now.’ To those her dearest
Her words were few:—‘God's work is worked, thank God!
O what a meeting will be ours in heaven!
Till then rejoice! O father! and O mother!
O sister mine, farewell!’
| The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere | |