 | A Wreath of Wild Flowers From New England |  |
THE HERO'S DEATH.
FROM THE SAME.
War's clarion calls to arms!
“To horse—to horse,” he cries;
“Hush, ladye-love, thy wild alarms!”
Away his charger flies!
“To horse—to horse,” he cries;
“Hush, ladye-love, thy wild alarms!”
Away his charger flies!
Where fiercest flows the flight,
His snow-white plume waves high;
All's lost, his comrades turn for flight,
He stands his ground—to die.—
His snow-white plume waves high;
All's lost, his comrades turn for flight,
He stands his ground—to die.—
To die!—that blow struck home—
Yet, yet he braves the foe!
“A rescue!” hark! they come! they come!
But the snow-white plume lies low!
Yet, yet he braves the foe!
“A rescue!” hark! they come! they come!
But the snow-white plume lies low!
| A Wreath of Wild Flowers From New England | |