'O Mother! Mother!' whispered one,
'How shall that ever be?
We may not bide in the light of day
To watch upon the lea.'
'No need, no need, my pretty child,
For your father dear has come;
We'll kiss him once, we'll kiss him twice,
Then seek our own far home.'
He heard them laugh with baby joy,
He felt their kisses sweet,
He heard the patter to the door
Of their unearthly feet....
He could not stir when she bent low
[58] To kiss him on the lips—
He could not raise, to hold her fast,
His anguished finger-tips;
But his heart against her silent breast
Beat loud in wild despair—
He heard the swaying of her skirt,
And his soul leapt forth in prayer.
. . . . .
A shepherd rose to call his sheep
When the morning sky was gray;
The owl flew back to the ruined tower—
He led his flock that way.
And lo! amid the scattered stones
That the foe had strewn around,
He saw his long-lost chieftain lie
A corpse upon the ground.
A smile was on his breathless lips,
[59] And he lay on the flowered sward,
Where his wife and babes had bled to death
Beneath a traitor's sword.