Beechenbrook - A Rhyme of the War by Margaret J. Preston
page 53 of 66 (80%)
page 53 of 66 (80%)
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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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