Dear, we might have known you were To die young--and were we blind To the light on face and hair? Dear, so simple and so kind. You were clean as your own sword And as straight too and steel true. In the Army of the Lord What promotion waits for you! I can see you where you stand, Knightly soul, so clean, so brave. With a new sword in your hand Where the lilied banners wave. Flower of simple chivalry, Marked for honour and for grace; It was very plain to see The clear shining of your face. You are gone now: it's turned cold: Very good you were and dear. Wear the looks you wore of old When we meet,--some other year.
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