Page:The Muse in Arms, Osborn (ed), 1917.djvu/260

 XCII

HE pipes in the streets were playing bravely,

The marching lads went by,

With merry hearts and voices singing

My friends marched out to die;

But I was hearing a lonely pibroch

Out of an older war,

"Farewell, farewell, farewell, MacCrimmon,

MacCrimmon comes no more."

And every lad in his heart was dreaming

Of honour and wealth to come,

And honour and noble pride were calling

To the tune of the pipes and drum;

But I was hearing a woman singing

On dark Dunvegan shore,

"In battle or peace, with wealth or honour,

MacCrimmon comes no more."

And there in front of the men were marching,

With feet that made no mark,

The grey old ghosts of the ancient fighters

Come back again from the dark; 218