Home They Brought Her Warrior Dead
Home they brought her warrior dead:
She nor swooned, nor uttered cry:
All her maidens, watching, said,
'She must weep or she will die.'
Then they praised him, soft and low,
Called him worthy to be loved,
Truest friend and noblest foe;
Yet she neither spoke nor moved.
Stole a maiden from her place,
Lightly to the warrior stepped,
Took the face-cloth from the face;
Yet she neither moved nor wept.
Rose a nurse of ninety years,
Set his child upon her knee--
Like summer tempest came her tears--
'Sweet my child, I live for thee.'
When we were about to leave the cremation ground, I saw three Army men, carrying a wreath and enquiring about a particular no. of funeral pyre. They had come to pay their last respects when all others had left. I looked back and saw them saluting..I couldn't help but think as to what happened to the Army punctuality.....
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