Page:All quiet along the Potomac and other poems.djvu/84

78 Turning round to look at Gretchen, But a tearful visage saw.

Bright upon the bridal finger Shone the unaccustomed ring; Scarcely worn ere, called to battle, Gottlieb left her sorrowing.

Now the bitter fight is over; Soldier bands with flag and drum Come marching home. But Gretchen whispers, "Alas! my Gottlieb does not come.

What care I for German glory? One I love is lost to me; In the trench a ghastly vision Of his pallid face I see.

Ah, when strangers buy a posy, Calling it meantime Too dear, Do they guess the rose's dewdrop Is the while a woman's tear?

Slowly, Franz! Why bound so wildly? Why that cry so loud and glad? Down, I say! Alas! my flowers! Art wicked, Franz, or growing mad?"

Far and wide lie scattered blossoms; Hark! a cry, a dog's low whine; A dusty soldier clasping Gretchen, While bugles blow "Watch on the Rhine."