320
BALLADS.
But the cloud of strife came upon the sky;
He left his sweet home for battle;
And his young child's lisp for the loud war-cry,
And the cannon's long death rattle.
He came again,—but an altered man:
The path of the grave was before him,
And the smile that he wore was cold and wan,
For the shadow of death hung o'er him.
He spoke of victory,—spoke of cheer:—
These are words that are vainly spoken
To the childless mother or orphan's ear,
Or the widow whose heart is broken.
