Explore "Between the Battles" by Francis Sherman on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Let us bury him here, / Where the maples are red!
He is dead, / And he died thanking God that he fell with the / fall of the leaf and the year.
Where the hillside is sheer, / Let it echo our tread / Whom he led; / Let us follow as gladly as ever we followed who / never knew fear.
Ere he died, they had fled; / Yet they heard his last cheer / Ringing clear, -- / When we lifted him up, he would fain have / pursued, but grew dizzy instead.
Break his sword and his spear!
Let this last prayer be said / By the bed / We have made underneath the wet wind in the / maple trees moaning so drear:
"O Lord God, by the red / Sullen end of the year / That is here, / We beseech Thee to guide us and strengthen our / swords till his slayers be dead! "