Notes - (VERSO)

3

Had fought the battle of his native land
Bravely and well; the slender boyish form
Was ever in the thickest battle storm;
His was the dauntless spirit all to dare,
Duty or danger called – and he was there.
But Death’s fell minion well-fulfilled its part
And sheathed itself too near that brave young heart,
And far from Albion’s wave-encircled shore
Her soldier hero fell to rise no more.
There, too, his comrades at the close of day
Found him as in his own lifes blood blood he lay