Skip to main content

‹‹‹ prev (183) Page 175Page 175

(185) next ››› Page 177Page 177

(184) Page 176 - Worn soldier
176
THE WORN SOLDIER.
The Queensferry boatie rows light,
And light is the heart that it bears,
For it brings the poor soldier safe back to his home,
From many long toilsome years.
How sweet are his green native hills,
As they smile to the beams of the west,
But sweeter by far is the sunshine of hope.
That gladdens the soldier's breast.
I can well mark the tears of his joy,
As the wave-beaten pier he ascends,
For already, in fancy, he enters his home,
'Midst the greetings of tender friends.
But fled are his visions of bliss,
All his transports but rose to deceive,
He found the dear cottage a tenantless waste,
And his kindred all sunk in the grave.

Images and transcriptions on this page, including medium image downloads, may be used under the Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International Licence unless otherwise stated. Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International Licence