  It is not the fear of death That damps my brow; It is not for another breath I ask thee now; I can die with a lip unstirr'd And a quiet heart— Let but this prayer be heard Ere I depart. I can give up my mother's look— My sister's kiss; I can think of love—yet brook A death like this! I can give up the young fame I burn'd to win— All—but the spotless name I glory in! Thine is the power to give, Thine to deny, Joy for the hour I live— Calmness to die. By all the brave should cherish, By my dying breath, I ask that I may perish With a soldier's death! |
|
