C.D. Warner, et al., comp. The Library of the World’s Best Literature.
An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.
The Song of the Camp
By Bayard Taylor (1825–1878)
“G
The outer trenches guarding,
When the heated guns of the camps allied
Grew weary of bombarding.
Lay, grim and threatening, under;
And the tawny mound of the Malakoff
No longer belched its thunder.
“We storm the forts to-morrow:
Sing while we may,—another day
Will bring enough of sorrow.”
Below the smoking cannon:
Brave hearts, from Severn and from Clyde
And from the banks of Shannon.
Forgot was Britain’s glory:
Each heart recalled a different name,
But all sang ‘Annie Laurie.’
Until its tender passion
Rose like an anthem, rich and strong,—
Their battle-eve confession.
But as the song grew louder,
Something upon the soldier’s cheek
Washed off the stains of powder.
The bloody sunset’s embers,
While the Crimean valleys learned
How English love remembers.
Rained on the Russian quarters,
With scream of shot, and burst of shell,
And bellowing of the mortars!
For a singer, dumb and gory;
And English Mary mourns for him
Who sang of Annie Laurie.
Your truth and valor wearing:
The bravest are the tenderest,—
The loving are the daring.