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Beechenbrook - A Rhyme of the War by Margaret J. Preston
page 53 of 66 (80%)
These glories shone: he kept the clustered whole
A jewel for the crown that Christ shall wear!




DIRGE FOR ASHBY.


Heard ye that thrilling word--
Accent of dread--
Flash like a thunderbolt,
Bowing each head--
Crash through the battle dun,
Over the booming gun--
"_Ashby, our bravest one_,--
_Ashby is dead!_"

Saw ye the veterans--
Hearts that had known
Never a quail of fear,
Never a groan--
Sob 'mid the fight they win,
--Tears their stern eyes within,--
"Ashby, our Paladin,
Ashby is gone!"

Dash,--dash the tear away--
Crush down the pain!
"_Dulce et decus_," be
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