KILLED IN ACTION.
BY F. HARALD WILLIAMS.
For him no words, the best were only weak
And could not say what love desires to speak;
For him no praise, no prizes did he ask,
To serve his Queen was a sufficient task;
For him no show, no idle tears be shed,
No fading laurels on that lowly head.
He fought for England, and for her he fell
And did his duty then--and it is well.
He deemed it but a little act, to give
His life and all, if Freedom thus might live;
And though he found the shock of battle rough,
He might not flinch--the glory was enough.
What if he broke, who would not tamely bend?
He strove for us, and craved no other end.
Nor should we ring too long his dying knell,
He has a soldier's crown--and it is well.
For him the tomb that is a nation's heart,
And doth endure when crumbling stones depart;
To him the honour, like the brave to stand,
With those who were in danger our right hand;
For him no empty epitaph of dust,
But that he kept for England safe her trust.
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