Page:The Muse in Arms, Osborn (ed), 1917.djvu/129

Rh Well might a soul more staid

Than yours have been afraid

In whom th' encroaching sea no fear could waken,

So to your end you passed

Steadfast unto the last,

Bearing your boyhood's courage still unshaken.

But ere the icy breath

Of that grim spectre Death

Had any power to affright or pain you,

Hovered around your head

Shades of our Greater Dead—

I like to think—to welcome and sustain you.

For all your tender years,

Amidst your mother's tears

Still must there be one glowing thought of pride for her,

And those less fortunate

Must envy you your fate

So to have served your Land and to have died for her. .