the hero's grave.
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No longer tender, guildess, meek,
Confiding as the dove,
Too oft I think before I speak,
And doubt before I love!
Confiding as the dove,
Too oft I think before I speak,
And doubt before I love!
THE HERO'S GRAVE.
A group of boys in playful strife—
A soldier old and faded,—
The fresh and glowing morn of life,—
The eve serenely shaded.—
A soldier old and faded,—
The fresh and glowing morn of life,—
The eve serenely shaded.—
"Ah! play not there, my children!
I pray you play not there!"
He spoke with tears,—that weary one,—
The man with silver hair.
I pray you play not there!"
He spoke with tears,—that weary one,—
The man with silver hair.
And why? the thoughtless children said,—
"The grass is fresher here,
"The grass is fresher here,
