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THE PATH OF ROSES.
Soon she unclasped the volume once again,
And read the words in tone of agony,
As in self-torture, weeping as she read:
"He crowns the glory of his race;
He prayeth but in some fair place
To meet his foeman face to face;
"And battling for the true, the right,
From ruddy dawn to purple night,
To perish in the midmost fight;
"Where foes are fierce and weapons strong,
Where roars the battle loud and long,
Where blood is dropping in the throng.
"Still with a dim and glazing eye
To watch the tide of victory,
To hear in death the battle-cry.
