I HAD a spindle cut from the hazel-tree; | |
| It fell in the water, not far from the mill, | |
| But the water never returned it to me. | |
| |
| The soldier said, as he lay a-dying, | |
| ‘I am content. | 5 |
| Send word to my mother who lives in the town, | |
| And to my beloved who dwells in a hut, | |
| So they may join hands and pray for my soul.’ | |
| |
| The soldier is dead. His sweetheart and mother | |
| Have joinèd their hands, and prayed for his soul. | 10 |
| They diggèd his grave on the field of the battle; | |
| The earth where they laid him was reddened with blood; | |
| And the sun said, as he witnessed the scene, | |
| ‘I too am content.’ | |
| The flowers have grown on his grave, | 15 |
| Each flower contented to blossom. | |
| |
| And when the wind rustled among the tree-tops, | |
| ‘The flag in the breeze?’ the soldier exclaimed. | |
| ‘No, my boy,’ said the wind, ‘You are dead in the battle, | |
| But the flag flies aloft where your comrades have placed it.’ | 20 |
| And the soldier replied from the depth of his tomb, | |
| ‘I am content.’ | |
| |
| He heard the swift trampling of shepherds and sheep, | |
| And the soldier demanded, ‘Is this war’s alarm?’ | |
| ‘No, my boy. You are dead. The warfare is ended. | 25 |
| But your country is joyous and free.’ | |
| And the soldier replied from the depth of his tomb, | |
| ‘I am content.’ | |
| |
| Once more, ’twas the laughter of lovers he heard, | |
| And he asked: ‘Are these sounds in remembrance of me?’ | 30 |
| ‘No, no, we think not of others,’ the lovers protested, | |
| ‘The spring-time is here, and the earth is in smiles. | |
| The dead must be forgot.’ | |
| Then the soldier declared from the depth of his tomb, | |
| ‘I am content.’ | 35 |
| |
