| |
| “GIVE us a song!” the soldiers cried, | |
| The outer trenches guarding, | |
| When the heated guns of the camp allied | |
| Grew weary of bombarding. | |
| |
| The dark Redan, in silent scoff, | 5 |
| Lay grim and threatening under; | |
| And the tawny mound of the Malakoff | |
| No longer belched its thunder. | |
| |
| There was a pause. A guardsman said: | |
| “We storm the forts to-morrow; | 10 |
| Sing while we may, another day | |
| Will bring enough of sorrow.” | |
| |
| They lay along the battery’s side, | |
| Below the smoking cannon,— | |
| Brave hearts from Severn and from Clyde, | 15 |
| And from the banks of Shannon. | |
| |
| They sang of love, and not of fame; | |
| Forgot was Britain’s glory; | |
| Each heart recalled a different name, | |
| But all sang “Annie Laurie.” | 20 |
| |
| Voice after voice caught up the song, | |
| Until its tender passion | |
| Rose like an anthem rich and strong, | |
| Their battle-eve confession. | |
| |
| Dear girl! her name he dared not speak; | 25 |
| But as the song grew louder, | |
| Something upon the soldier’s cheek | |
| Washed off the stains of powder. | |
| |
| Beyond the darkening ocean burned | |
| The bloody sunset’s embers, | 30 |
| While the Crimean valleys learned | |
| How English love remembers. | |
| |
| And once again a fire of hell | |
| Rained on the Russian quarters, | |
| With scream of shot and burst of shell, | 35 |
| And bellowing of the mortars! | |
| |
| And Irish Nora’s eyes are dim | |
| For a singer dumb and gory; | |
| And English Mary mourns for him | |
| Who sang of “Annie Laurie.” | 40 |
| |
| Sleep, soldiers! still in honored rest | |
| Your truth and valor wearing; | |
| The bravest are the tenderest,— | |
| The loving are the daring. | |
| |
