| |
| OUT of the clover and blue-eyed grass | |
| He turned them into the river-lane; | |
| One after another he let them pass, | |
| Then fastened the meadow bars again. | |
| |
| Under the willows, and over the hill, | 5 |
| He patiently followed their sober pace; | |
| The merry whistle for once was still, | |
| And something shadowed the sunny face. | |
| |
| Only a boy! and his father had said | |
| He never could let his youngest go; | 10 |
| Two already were lying dead | |
| Under the feet of the trampling foe. | |
| |
| But after the evening work was done, | |
| And the frogs were loud in the meadow-swamp, | |
| Over his shoulder he slung his gun | 15 |
| And stealthily followed the foot-path damp, | |
| |
| Across the clover and through the wheat | |
| With resolute heart and purpose grim, | |
| Though cold was the dew on his hurrying feet, | |
| And the blind bat’s flitting startled him. | 20 |
| |
| Thrice since then had the lanes been white, | |
| And the orchards sweet with apple-bloom; | |
| And now, when the cows came back at night, | |
| The feeble father drove them home. | |
| |
| For news had come to the lonely farm | 25 |
| That three were lying where two had lain; | |
| And the old man’s tremulous, palsied arm | |
| Could never lean on a son’s again. | |
| |
| The summer day grew cool and late, | |
| He went for the cows when the work was done; | 30 |
| But down the lane, as he opened the gate, | |
| He saw them coming one by one,— | |
| |
| Brindle, Ebony, Speckle, and Bess, | |
| Shaking their horns in the evening wind; | |
| Cropping the buttercups out of the grass,— | 35 |
| But who was it following close behind? | |
| |
| Loosely swung in the idle air | |
| The empty sleeve of army blue; | |
| And worn and pale, from the crisping hair, | |
| Looked out a face that the father knew. | 40 |
| |
| For gloomy prisons will sometimes yawn, | |
| And yield their dead unto life again; | |
| And the day that comes with a cloudy dawn | |
| In golden glory at last may wane. | |
| |
| The great tears sprang to their meeting eyes; | 45 |
| For the heart must speak when the lips are dumb; | |
| And under the silent evening skies | |
| Together they followed the cattle home. | |
| |
