Fulfilling the warrior’s woe.
But this I see before I go—
A beauty blackening battle’s show;
Pictures of home in heart and brain
That blot and blank in my war’s refrain.
A meadow alined by English lanes;
And Shelley’s lark is in the sky,
And Shakespeare’s sheep, in clover deep;
A house by the spring and a grapevine swing,
A mother’s song and a babe’s reply.