IN FRENCH FIELDS.
23
'Speak of them all, the loved, the lost,
My sister, is she married now?
And have they e'er your wanderings crost
That were my playmates long ago?
Of all the friends that came of yore
With me, to win a soldier's praise,
How many have beheld once more
The cherished scenes of earlier days?
'Who live there yet? and who have died?
O speak, dear birds, for ye must know,—
Who slumber happy side by side?
And who, as exiles, live in woe?
My country's birds, your tidings tell,
As high ye circle in the air,
Though never heart for me may swell
Nor ever rise the mother's prayer.'
A.
