The Poetical Works of William Motherwell/Choice of Death
Choice of Death.
Might I, without offending, choose
The death that I would die,
I'd fall, as erst the Templar fell,
Aneath a Syrian sky.
Upon a glorious plain of war,
The banners floating fair,
My lance and fluttering pennoncel
Should marshal heroes there!
Upon the solemn battle-eve,
With prayer to be forgiven,
I'd arm me for a righteous fight,
Imploring peace of Heaven!
High o'er the thunders of the charge
Should wave my sable plume,
And where the day was lost or won,
There should they place my tomb!