Poems: New and Old (Newbolt)/The Only Son
The Only Son
O bitter wind toward the sunset blowingWhat of the dales to-night?In yonder gray old hall what fires are glowing,What ring of festal light?
"In the great window as the day was dwindlingI saw an old man stand;His head was proudly held and his eyes kindling,But the list shook in his hand."
O wind of twilight, was there no word uttered,No sound of joy or wail?"'A great fight and a good death,' he muttered;'Trust him, he would not fail?'"
What of the chamber dark where she was lyingFor whom all life is done?"Within her heart she rocks a dead child, crying'My son, my little son.'"