previous next
Oh! better far for thee, my blest,
Beneath the daisy's turf to rest.”

The words her lips are scarcely past,
When round her arms are kindly cast;
A foeman's wife with pitying face,
The mother and the child embrace.

With glowing cheek, with brimming eyes,
“Give me thy son!” she earnest cries;
“And haste thee! for the moments press--
They spare thee but a brief caress!”

She's gone, and other care shall shield
The all-unconscious happy child;
Who laughs when glitt'ring foemen come,
And shouts at roll of hostile drum.

But still his friend with instinct true
Has robed him in his red and blue!
And — mantle fit!--has o'er him thrown
The flag 'neath which the boy was born!

--N. Y. Evening Post.

Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 United States License.

An XML version of this text is available for download, with the additional restriction that you offer Perseus any modifications you make. Perseus provides credit for all accepted changes, storing new additions in a versioning system.

hide Places (automatically extracted)

View a map of the most frequently mentioned places in this document.

Download Pleiades ancient places geospacial dataset for this text.

hide Display Preferences
Greek Display:
Arabic Display:
View by Default:
Browse Bar: