Page:The Golden Violet.pdf/56

Rh

For shroud, he had his blood-stain'd mail,— Such suits the soldier best. A chestnut tree grew on the spot; It was as if he sought, From the press of surrounding foes, Its shelter while he fought. The grave was dug, a cross was raised, The prayers were duly said, While perch'd upon a low-hung bough The bird moan'd overhead. We laid the last sod on the grave,— The falcon dropp'd like lead; I placed it in my breast in vain, Its gallant life was fled. We bade the faithful creature share Its master's place of rest;