| |
| SWIFT troopers twain ride side by side | |
| Throughout life’s long campaign. | |
| They make a jest of all man’s pride, | |
| And oh, the havoc! As they ride | |
| They cannot count their slain. | 5 |
| |
| The one is young and debonair, | |
| And laughing swings his blade! | |
| The Zephyrs toss his golden hair, | |
| His eyes are blue; he is so fair | |
| He seems a masking maid. | 10 |
| |
| The other is a warrior grim, | |
| Dark as a midnight storm; | |
| There is no man can cope with him, | |
| We shrink and tremble in each limb | |
| Before his awful form. | 15 |
| |
| Yet though men fear the sombre foe | |
| More than the gold-tressed youth, | |
| The boy with every careless blow | |
| More than the trooper grim lays low, | |
| And causes earth more ruth. | 20 |
| |
| Keener his mocking sword doth prove | |
| Than flame or winter’s breath: | |
| Men bear his wounds to the realm above, | |
| For the little trooper’s name is Love, | |
| His comrade ’s only Death. | 25 |
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