Of sacrifice; would beg to lay
White lilies by the gray hearthstone
Where, bowed in black this Christmas day,
She wails her brave dead far away
And weeps, so more than all alone:
Weeps while the chime, the chilly chime,
Drops on her heart, drops all the time
As one might drop a stone.
But you, ye lords and gentlemen
High throned, safe housed at home, fat fed,