Page:Poems Jones.djvu/88

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82
THE SOLDIER'S BRIDE.
Till noontide those grand, rhythmic thunders resounding,
Aroused into courage my patriot-zeal:
But then my quick pulse ceased at once from its bounding;
Pain entered my breast like the piercing of steel.

This is not the time for weak wailing and sobbing;
My heart must be patient though riven in twain.
This tent—how its quietness sets my veins throbbing!
This ghastly white moon—how it maddens my brain!

"Go not," so they said, "lest his courage should falter;
Stay under the fig-tree and nourish the vine;
His hearthstone keep bright, feed the fire on home's altar"—
But what with? my heart, love, torn bleeding from thine?

Ah well! let them chide! I have freely resigned thee;
Believing thee worthy those fathers of ours.