The Soldiers Grave

‘Twas long ago, in the summer-time,

On a day as sad as this,

That I laid my babe in its father’s arms,

And he gave it his farewell kiss;

When the army sail’d from the English shores

In a mist of sun and rain,

To the vine-clad hills and citadels

And the olive groves of Spain.

I set my face to the balmy south,

And listen’d, intent and dumb,

As though a cry from the battle-grounds

On the fragrant wind might come.

I yearn’d for a gleam of the red camp fires

Which burn’d through the watchful nights,

For the shine of the bayonets that clash’d one day

On the dread Albuera heights.

Ah me! And my face cannot turn away,

Though the ashes are on my brow,-

Though the news of the battle came once for all,

And there’s nothing to watch for now!

Though ’tis further away than that far south land

I must look for my dear man’s face,-

Though I know he will never come home again

To the chair in the old house-place!

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Poems in English 

• Hope And Riders by Poetry In English
• Do I by Poetry In English
• Communal War by Poetry In English
• Blank Dreams by Poetry In English
• Before by Poetry In English
• Again by Poetry In English
• A Voice by Poetry In English
• A Toast To Nations by Poetry In English
• What Of The Night by Ada Cambridge
• Vows by Ada Cambridge
• To Morrow by Ada Cambridge
• The Winged Mariners by Ada Cambridge
• The Watchman by Ada Cambridge
• The Virgin Martyr by Ada Cambridge
• The Vain Question by Ada Cambridge
• The Soldiers Grave by Ada Cambridge
• The Silence In The Church by Ada Cambridge
• The Season by Ada Cambridge
• The Resting Place by Ada Cambridge
• The Old Manor House by Ada Cambridge

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Yahoo– yes, it’s still around, amazingly, miraculously, incredibly, but now it seems to be powered by Bing.

 

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