Verse > Anthologies > Andrew Macphail, ed. > The Book of Sorrow
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Andrew Macphail, comp.  The Book of Sorrow.  1916.
 
XXXV. Consolation
‘Home they brought her Warrior Dead’
By Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809–1892)
 
HOME they brought her warrior dead:
  She nor swoon’d, nor utter’d cry:
All her maidens, watching, said,
  ‘She must weep or she will die.’
 
Then they praised him, soft and low,        5
  Call’d him worthy to be loved,
Truest friend and noblest foe;
  Yet she neither spoke nor moved.
 
Stole a maiden from her place,
  Lightly to the warrior stept,        10
Took the face-cloth from the face;
  Yet she neither moved nor wept.
 
Rose a nurse of ninety years,
  Set his child upon her knee—
Like summer tempest came her tears—        15
  ‘Sweet my child, I live for thee.’
 
 
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