 | Poems with Fables in Prose |  |
159
I Heard a Soldier
I heard a soldier sing some trifle
Out in the sun-dried veldt alone;
He lay and cleaned his grimy rifle
Idly, behind a stone.
Out in the sun-dried veldt alone;
He lay and cleaned his grimy rifle
Idly, behind a stone.
“If after death, love, comes a waking,
And in their camp so dark and still
The men of dust hear bugles, breaking
Their halt upon the hill,
And in their camp so dark and still
The men of dust hear bugles, breaking
Their halt upon the hill,
“To me the slow and silver pealing
That then the last high trumpet pours
Shall softer than the dawn come stealing,
For, with its call, comes yours!”
That then the last high trumpet pours
Shall softer than the dawn come stealing,
For, with its call, comes yours!”
What grief of love had he to stifle,
Basking so idly by his stone,
That grimy soldier with his rifle
Out in the veldt, alone?
Basking so idly by his stone,
That grimy soldier with his rifle
Out in the veldt, alone?
| Poems with Fables in Prose | |