Lo! ’neath the shadow of yon ivied tree
A group of sorrowing, sobbing warriors bend
O’er him they bled for, but could not defend.
Oh destiny inscrutable! through all
Unharmed to pass—the bayonet and the ball—
And in the moment of success to fall!
His life bleeds slowly from him; and beside
Kneels she who was—or should have been—his bride;
Mutely she kneels, nor moves, nor weeps, nor sighs,
But only gazes on his glazing eyes,