 | 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition |  |
THE SOLDIER'S OATH.
Come, lay a soldier's hand in mine,
Old friend and true,
And swear, while suns arise and shine,
And skies are blue—
Swear, thou wilt ever faithful prove,
Whate'er betide,
To try the bases of our love,
That now abide
As steadfast as the very stars,
Unmoved by chance,
Which nightly veil the glorious scars
Of wounded France.
Our's has no common friendship been,
And we have fought
Shoulder to shoulder, and have seen
Great records wrought
Beneath our eyes, and helped to make
With steel and shot,
The history that no storm can shake,
No envy blot.
Aye, comrade, in the bitter breach,
Where hundreds fell,
If they might but the glory reach
They loved so well,
We smirched with battle smoke, in will
Of fearless pride,
Welcomed the fiercest odds, and still
Stood side by side.
Our friendship from the winter morn
Its freshness fed,
And seas that beat on lands forlorn
Their wildness shed
On that frank fellowship in arms,
Baptized with blood,
Which found the wiles of women's charms,
Than fire and flood
More cruel, yet displayed to all,
Unstained by lust
Of place and power, and mammon's call,
Triumphant trust.
Old friend and true,
And swear, while suns arise and shine,
And skies are blue—
Swear, thou wilt ever faithful prove,
Whate'er betide,
To try the bases of our love,
That now abide
As steadfast as the very stars,
Unmoved by chance,
Which nightly veil the glorious scars
Of wounded France.
Our's has no common friendship been,
And we have fought
Shoulder to shoulder, and have seen
Great records wrought
Beneath our eyes, and helped to make
With steel and shot,
The history that no storm can shake,
No envy blot.
Aye, comrade, in the bitter breach,
Where hundreds fell,
If they might but the glory reach
They loved so well,
We smirched with battle smoke, in will
Of fearless pride,
Welcomed the fiercest odds, and still
Stood side by side.
282
Its freshness fed,
And seas that beat on lands forlorn
Their wildness shed
On that frank fellowship in arms,
Baptized with blood,
Which found the wiles of women's charms,
Than fire and flood
More cruel, yet displayed to all,
Unstained by lust
Of place and power, and mammon's call,
Triumphant trust.
Come, lay a soldier's hand in mine,
Old friend and true,
And swear, while suns arise and shine,
And skies are blue—
While we such gallant memories keep
Of sword and lance,
And treason crushed by vengeance deep,
While France is France—
Swear, when the last great muster roll
Heaven's Captain calls,
On whichsoever soldier soul
The summons falls—
Swear that the other will the same
Clear answer give,
And not, for a divided fame,
His friend outlive.
Old friend and true,
And swear, while suns arise and shine,
And skies are blue—
While we such gallant memories keep
Of sword and lance,
And treason crushed by vengeance deep,
While France is France—
Swear, when the last great muster roll
Heaven's Captain calls,
On whichsoever soldier soul
The summons falls—
Swear that the other will the same
Clear answer give,
And not, for a divided fame,
His friend outlive.
He spoke, and in his iron grip
A hand was laid,
And an unfaltering grizzled lip
The promise made—
By stern remembrance of old frays,
And dangers faced
Together, and of glorious days
No flight disgraced.
The summer heard, how that dread plea
Was proudly borne;
And laughed, when before earth and sea,
The oath was sworn.
A hand was laid,
And an unfaltering grizzled lip
The promise made—
By stern remembrance of old frays,
And dangers faced
Together, and of glorious days
No flight disgraced.
The summer heard, how that dread plea
Was proudly borne;
And laughed, when before earth and sea,
The oath was sworn.
Time pass'd, and the Great Captain read
The muster roll,
And from the ranks stept with firm tread
One soldier soul.
Upon the corpse the other fell,
And kissed his brow;
The pistol shot, that rang his knell,
Fulfilled the vow.
The muster roll,
And from the ranks stept with firm tread
One soldier soul.
Upon the corpse the other fell,
And kissed his brow;
The pistol shot, that rang his knell,
Fulfilled the vow.
283
Thus the last grand promotion came,
For comrades true;
Who lived for France, and left one name,
When skies were blue.
For comrades true;
Who lived for France, and left one name,
When skies were blue.
| 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition | |