THE SOLDIER'S FUNERAL.
237
A volley was fired, a blessing said,
One moment's pause—and they left the dead!—
I saw a poor and an aged man,
His step was feeble, his lip was wan:
He knelt him down on the new-raised mound,
His face was bowed on the cold damp ground,
He raised his head, his tears were done,—
The father had prayed o'er his only son!
