Somebody’s darling was borne one day.
Somebody’s darling so young and so brave,
Wearing yet on his sweet, pale face,
Soon to be laid in the dust of the grave,
The lingering light of his boyhood’s grace.
Matted and damp are the curls of gold,
Kissing the snow of that fair young brow;
Pale are the lips of delicate mould,
Somebody’s darling is dying now!
Back from his beautiful blue-veined brow,