Page:Poems Schiller.djvu/68

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TREASURES
An old blue cap that a soldier wore,
Where the shot and shell were flying;
Where the air was filled with the cannons' roar,
And the groans of the wounded and dying.

A soft brown curl that shaded a face,
The sweetest on earth to me;
That holds in my heart a sacred place,
And haunts me where'er I may be.

A shoe—a dainty, wee baby shoe,
That Nellie, our darling wore;
Ere the angel of death closed those eyes of blue,
That will open nevermore.

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