AN OLD MAN OVER THE BODY OF HIS SON.
I am too proud by far to weep,
Though earth had nought so dear
As was the Soldier Youth to me
Now sleeping on that bier.
It were a stain upon his fame
Would do his laurel crown a shame,
To shed one single tear.
It was a blessed lot to die
In battle, and for liberty!
He was my first, my only child,
And when my race was run,
I was so proud to send him forth
To do as I had done.
