Page:Poems Davidson.djvu/130

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78
PARTING OF DECOURCY AND WILHELMINE.
One long last look of calm despair,
And he springs upon his steed;

He strikes the sting of his bloody spur
In his foaming courser's side,
And he gallops on where the wave of war
Rolls on with its bursting tide.

Whose was the sword that flashed so bright,
Like the flaming brand of heaven?
And whose the plume, that from morn till night
Was a star to the hopeless given?

'Twas thine, Decourcy! that terrible sword
Hath finished its work of death;
But the hand which raised it on high is lowered
To the damp green earth beneath.

The sun went down, and its parting ray
Smiled sorrow across the earth,
The light breeze moaned—then died away,
And the stars rose up in mirth.

And the timid moon looked down with a smile
On the blood-stained battle ground,
And the groans of the wounded rose up the while
With a sad, heart-rending sound,—

While the spectre-form of some grief-worn man
Steals slowly and silently by,
Each corpse to note—each face to scan,
For his friend on that field doth lie.