The Soldier

I climbed the barren mountain,

And my gaze swept far and

For the red-lit eaves of my father's home,

And I fancied that he sighed:

My son has gone for a soldier,

For a soldier night and day;

But my son is wise, and may yet return,

When the drums have died away.

I climbed the grass-clad mountain,

And my gaze swept far and

For the rosy lights of a little room,

Where I thought my mother sighed:

My boy has gone for a soldier,

He sleeps not day and night;

But my boy is wise, and may yet return,

Though the dead lie far from sight.

I climbed the topmost summit,

And my gaze swept far and

For the garden roof where my brother stood,

And I fancied that he sighed:

My brother serves as a

With his comrades night and day;

But my brother is wise, and may yet return,

Though the dead lie far away.