War Lyrics dedicated to the friends of the dead. By A. and L. Shore. Second edition, with additions |
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CHRISTMAS TIDE. |
 | War Lyrics |  |
CHRISTMAS TIDE.
Startled oft from slumbers brief,
Listening for the far-off guns,
Drunk with glory and with grief,
England counts her slaughtered sons.
Listening for the far-off guns,
Drunk with glory and with grief,
England counts her slaughtered sons.
52
By a thousand Christmas fires
Sits a soldier's ghost to-day—
Many a soldier's soul expires
Whilst we revel far away.
Sits a soldier's ghost to-day—
Many a soldier's soul expires
Whilst we revel far away.
From the dancers, many a maiden
Draws away her hand in tears—
Many an orange chaplet hidden
In black raiment, disappears.
Draws away her hand in tears—
Many an orange chaplet hidden
In black raiment, disappears.
Thundering in the Crystal dome,
Battle-music shakes the walls—
And the broken hearts at home
Follow phantom funerals.
Battle-music shakes the walls—
And the broken hearts at home
Follow phantom funerals.
What though five barbarians fall
For each man of ours that dies,
Still we are not paid for all,
And we claim a costlier prize.
For each man of ours that dies,
Still we are not paid for all,
And we claim a costlier prize.
53
To build Truth a nobler throne—
To give Freedom wider air—
This is why we cheered them on,
This is why their graves are there.
To give Freedom wider air—
This is why we cheered them on,
This is why their graves are there.
This is why we still defy,
Czar! the bayonets of slaves—
And 'tis God's own victory
Rises grandly from our graves.
Czar! the bayonets of slaves—
And 'tis God's own victory
Rises grandly from our graves.
L. December, 1854.
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