Into a prayer, and such a tone
Of anguish there was in his cry
For wife and children, that the guard—
Thinking upon his own—pass’d by
And left him swooning on the sward.
Beyond the ‘dead-line’ fell his head:
The eager sentry knew his mark,
And with a crash the bullet sped
Into his brain, and all was dark.
But when they turn’d his livid cheek