In the very midst, was a pause to tell Of a gallant youth who fought so well That his comrades asked: “Who is he, pray?” “The only son of the Widow Gray,” Was the proud reply Of his captain nigh— What ails the woman standing near? Her face has the ashen hue of fear!
“Well, well, read on; is he wounded? Quick! O God! but my heart is sorrow-sick! Is he wounded?” “No; he fell, they say, Killed outright on that fatal day!” But see, the woman has swooned away!
Sadly she opened her eyes to the light; Slowly recalled the events of the fight; Faintly she murmured: “Killed outright! It has cost me the life of my only son; But the battle is fought, and the victory won; The will of the Lord, let it be done!”
God pity the cheerless Widow Gray, And send from the halls of eternal day The light of his peace to illumine her way.
[Southern.]
