Once when a child, he found within the neighbouring wood A wounded dove and bore it home with streaming eyes. That birds he loved could die, he had not understood, And half his words told grief, and half a strange surprise. He nursed the bird in vain; he woke to find it dead, We could not still his grief; but when his tears were spent He dug its little grave within the roses' bed, And with some treasured stones, built a quaint monument. A man, he loathed the war, but heard his country's call. Scorning to hide behind the lives of braver friends, Straight to the front he went; forsook the college hall And sought the perilous post, knowing where such task ends. An eagle, high he soared and watching far below The hostile armies come, signalled what he descried. Telling his men to ward the sudden, desperate blow, Then in the clouds, alone, with no friend near, he died. For him no childish hands will dig a peaceful grave. What does the freed soul care where the torn body lies? And who can mourn his flight? Clean, loyal, tender, brave, Swift flew his soul to God, far in the happy skies. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...YOUTH PENETRANT by CONRAD AIKEN REGARDING CHAINSAWS by HAYDEN CARRUTH CURTAIN by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON DESPAIR by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON MOTHER NIGHT by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON |