 | 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition |  |
HER FATHER'S DAUGHTER.
Oh, he was a soldier bold,
And she was his daughter fair,
Framed of sunshine and of air,
Never made for suffering cold,
Never meant to leave the fold,
Brave the wolf within his lair;
Up the easy velvet stair
Had she stept, and felt the hold
Soft of the luxurious chair—
Felt the joy of treasurers old,
Silk and satin, lace and gold,
Kisses warm on yellow hair.
And she was his daughter fair,
Framed of sunshine and of air,
Never made for suffering cold,
Never meant to leave the fold,
Brave the wolf within his lair;
Up the easy velvet stair
Had she stept, and felt the hold
Soft of the luxurious chair—
Felt the joy of treasurers old,
Silk and satin, lace and gold,
Kisses warm on yellow hair.
But her father died, and went
With him all except his fame,
Simple cross and soldier's name,
Won beneath the banner rent,
Won by blood heroic spent,
Scars that graced the gallant frame;
All the goodly things that came
Freely, pleasant sound and scent,
Vanished now, as though a game
Just of rank and riches lent
Only, and upon her bent
Poverty that fools call shame.
With him all except his fame,
Simple cross and soldier's name,
Won beneath the banner rent,
Won by blood heroic spent,
Scars that graced the gallant frame;
All the goodly things that came
Freely, pleasant sound and scent,
Vanished now, as though a game
Just of rank and riches lent
Only, and upon her bent
Poverty that fools call shame.
Yet she was her father's child,
And she proved her spirit now,
Would not to misfortune bow,
Met the brunt of billows wild,
In her girlhood sweet and mild,
Which no enemy could cow;
Resolute her maiden's vow,
Not by baits to be beguiled,
Yet—although she knew not how—
Still, if cowards her revil'd,
To draw round her undefil'd
Robes, and bear a stainless brow.
And she proved her spirit now,
Would not to misfortune bow,
Met the brunt of billows wild,
116
Which no enemy could cow;
Resolute her maiden's vow,
Not by baits to be beguiled,
Yet—although she knew not how—
Still, if cowards her revil'd,
To draw round her undefil'd
Robes, and bear a stainless brow.
On she struggled glorious still,
Took but scanty food and rest,
While by cruel labour prest,
With her grand undaunted will,
Lured by all the tempter's skill,
Not to swerve from pathways blest;
Still she firmly chose the best,—
Though her basket did not fill,
Hunger grew a daily guest—
Fought a losing battle, till
Friendly death that doth not kill,
Laid his cross upon her breast.
Took but scanty food and rest,
While by cruel labour prest,
With her grand undaunted will,
Lured by all the tempter's skill,
Not to swerve from pathways blest;
Still she firmly chose the best,—
Though her basket did not fill,
Hunger grew a daily guest—
Fought a losing battle, till
Friendly death that doth not kill,
Laid his cross upon her breast.
| 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition | |