My Lyrical Life Poems Old and New. By Gerald Massey |
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A SOLDIER'S WIFE. |
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 | My Lyrical Life |  |
137
A SOLDIER'S WIFE.
“
Around
us the day closes dense as a wood,
The Stars down the darkness with eerie eyes brood,
While out through the nightfall my restless thoughts flee
To him who is fighting far over the sea.
The Stars down the darkness with eerie eyes brood,
While out through the nightfall my restless thoughts flee
To him who is fighting far over the sea.
“Across the mirk Moorland the birds of night cry;
A wind stirs my flesh as of ghosts gliding by;
Oh, clasp thy hands, pretty one, kneel down with me,
And pray for thy Father far over the sea.
A wind stirs my flesh as of ghosts gliding by;
Oh, clasp thy hands, pretty one, kneel down with me,
And pray for thy Father far over the sea.
“So brave is my darling, so gallant and gay,
He'll flash through the fight in the wild, bloody day;
He'll crest the top wave upon valour's red sea;
God shield him! God send him back safely to me!”
He'll flash through the fight in the wild, bloody day;
He'll crest the top wave upon valour's red sea;
God shield him! God send him back safely to me!”
He's lying, poor Wife! with the valiant and tried,
Who to-night shed their life on a reddened hillside:
And still she sings tenderly, “Over the sea,
Blow, breezes, and bring back my darling to me.”
Who to-night shed their life on a reddened hillside:
And still she sings tenderly, “Over the sea,
Blow, breezes, and bring back my darling to me.”
Her soul it sat smiling, all meek as a dove,
In her pure perfect face that was lighted with love;
Her child to the full heart endearing she drew,
And bowed like a Flower 'neath its blessing of dew.
In her pure perfect face that was lighted with love;
Her child to the full heart endearing she drew,
And bowed like a Flower 'neath its blessing of dew.
138
Some luminous Presence glides over the place,
A white mist of glory! a white spirit-face!
And a starry Shape comes slow and sweet from the gloom;
God help thee, poor Widow! thy husband is home!
A white mist of glory! a white spirit-face!
And a starry Shape comes slow and sweet from the gloom;
God help thee, poor Widow! thy husband is home!
She knows not the Spirit that hovereth nigh,
Nor whence fell the slumber that healed her heart's cry;
But she weeps in her vision, and prayerfully
Still murmurs, “God send him back safely to me!”
Nor whence fell the slumber that healed her heart's cry;
But she weeps in her vision, and prayerfully
Still murmurs, “God send him back safely to me!”
| My Lyrical Life | |