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THE WARRIORS OF THE SKY.
No stars shone on the water, and no wind its bosom stirred,
To the eve it moved not, but the ear its deep strong current heard.
My walk was up and down the stream, and as I paced along,
I hummed unconsciously the notes of a half-forgotten song
That mother sung, till it took me back to the old land far away,
To the hills and dales of Lincolnshire, in spring so bright and gay.
To the eve it moved not, but the ear its deep strong current heard.
My walk was up and down the stream, and as I paced along,
I hummed unconsciously the notes of a half-forgotten song
That mother sung, till it took me back to the old land far away,
To the hills and dales of Lincolnshire, in spring so bright and gay.
"Once more I floated on the creek that flowed by my first home,
And heard again the tales of wars that tempted me to roam:
Heard the low voice, that prayed for me, so many a silent night,
When slumber wrapt me in its folds, breathe yet the kind good-night.
Heard the gay huntsman's horn, the cry the hounds responding gave;
Like an infant in its cradle rocked the star upon the wave;
But happier, freer than them all, while the seasons danced along,
Was the boy that roamed among the hills, and dreamed of war and song.
And heard again the tales of wars that tempted me to roam:
Heard the low voice, that prayed for me, so many a silent night,
When slumber wrapt me in its folds, breathe yet the kind good-night.
Heard the gay huntsman's horn, the cry the hounds responding gave;
Like an infant in its cradle rocked the star upon the wave;
But happier, freer than them all, while the seasons danced along,
Was the boy that roamed among the hills, and dreamed of war and song.
