"Oh, he is as gentle as south winds in May!"
"'Tis not a gentle place where I have been."
"Oh, he has a smile like the outbreak of day!"
"Where men are dying fast, smiles are not seen."

"Tell me the mightiest deeds that were done.
Deeds of chief honour, you said you saw three:
You said you saw three--I am sure he did one.
My heart shall discern him, and cry, 'This is he!'"

"I saw a man scaling a tower of despair,
And he went up alone, and the hosts shouted loud."
"That was my son! Had he streams of fair hair?"
"Nay; it was black as the blackest night-cloud."

"Did he live?" "No; he died: but the fortress was won,
And they said it was grand for a man to die so."
"Alas for his mother! He was not my son.
Was there no fair-hair'd soldier who humbled the foe?"

"I saw a man charging in front of his rank,
Thirty yards on, in a hurry to die:
Straight as an arrow hurled into the flank
Of a huge desert-beast, ere the hunter draws nigh."

"Did he live?" "No; he died: but the battle was won,
And the conquest-cry carried his name through the air.
Be comforted, mother; he was not thy son;
Worn was his forehead, and gray was his hair."

"Oh! the brow of my son is as smooth as a rose;
I kissed it last night in my dream. I have heard
Two legends of fame from the land of our foes;
But you said there were three; you must tell me the third."

"I saw a man flash from the trenches and fly
In a battery's face; but it was not to slay:
A poor little drummer had dropp'd down to die,
With his ankle shot through, in the place where he lay.

"He carried the boy like a babe through the rain,
The death-pouring torrent of grape-shot and shell;
And he walked at a foot's pace because of the pain,
Laid his burden down gently, smiled once, and then fell."

"Did he live?" "No; he died: but he rescued the boy.
Such a death is more noble than life (so they said).
He had streams of fair hair, and a face full of joy,
And his name"--"Speak it not! 'Tis my son! He is dead!

"Oh, dig him a grave by the red rowan tree,
Where the spring moss grows softer than fringes of foam!
And lay his bed smoothly, and leave room for me,
For I shall be ready before he comes home.

"And carve on his tombstone a name and a wreath,