BEFORE SEDAN.
Here in this leafy place
Quiet he lies,
Cold, with his sightless face
Turned to the skies;
'Tis but another dead;
All you can say is said.
Carry his body hence,—
Kings must have slaves;
Kings climb to eminence
Over men's graves;
So this man's eyes are dim;—
Throw the earth over him.
What was the white you touched
There at his side?
Paper his hand had clutched
Tight ere he died;—
Message or wish, may be;—
Smooth the folds out and see.
Hardly the worst of us
Here could have smiled!—
Only the tremulous
Words of a child;—
Prattle, that has for stops
Just a few ruddy drops.
Look. She is sad to miss,
Morning and night,
His—her dead father's—kiss,
Tries to be bright,
Good to mamma, and sweet;
That is all. "Marguerite."
Ah, if beside the dead
Slumbered the pain!
Ah, if the hearts that bled
Slept with the slain!
If the grief died;—but no;—
Death will not have it so.
Austin Dobson.