Felicia Dorothea Hemans (1793–1835)

LIKE thee to die, thou sun!—My boyhood’s dream

Was this; and now my spirit, with thy beam,

Ebbs from a field of victory!—yet the hour

Bears back upon me, with a torrent’s power,

Nature’s deep longings: Oh! for some kind eye,

Wherein to meet love’s fervent farewell gaze;

Some breast to pillow life’s last agony,

Some voice, to speak of hope and brighter days,

Beyond the pass of shadows! But I go,

I that have been so loved, go hence alone;

And ye, now gathering round my own hearth’s glow,

Sweet friends! it may be that a softer tone,

Even in this moment, with your laughing glee

Mingles its cadence while you speak of me:

Of me, your soldier, ’midst the mountains lying,

On the red banner of his battles dying.