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Literary Gazette, 28th March, 1829, Page 212
Bethink thee of how many tears
Must wash the stains away,
That dim bright armour and proud brow,
Before the close of day.
I think upon the lonely hearth,
The desolated home,
The fond hearts listening for the step
That never more will come.
I think on the linked love of years,
One moment hath undone;
I gaze on yonder happy child,
And weep the orphan one."
He met her sad eyes' sweet reproach,
He caught each gentle word;
The trumpet woke the winds again,
But it passed by unheard.
L. E. L.
