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34 8 CRADLE AND GRAVE.
Told all the solemn story o er Of ambush, combat, and mishap.
No loving kisses on the cheek,
No mother s breath the soft air stirred ;
His last good-bye the angels keep, For only they that message heard.
No cannon boomed to tell the news, No banner flung its shifting shade ;
An empire slipped from out the hand Low on the tangled grasses laid.
"The prince is dead ! the empire falls !"
What matter? Still the world goes on ; But when we read " At Chiselhurst A widow mourns her only son,"
Then ev ry where throb mother-hearts, As Rachel s grief they understand,
And pray for her whose darting fell Asleep unkissed in Zulu-land. -
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