YOUNG, and blithe, and gay;
Slight, and small of limb;
Busy, till the birds
Sang their evening hymn;
This the lad who, on day hot,
Walked away—returning not.
They searched and found him—
Painless now;
With golden sunlight on his brow.
He had lain him down 'neath the summer sky;
He had lain him down in the bush, to die.
Far had he wandered
From the track;
Gently they raised him—
Bore him back;
Never more to be blithe and bright
As starlight on a summer night!
'Twas not a sickness
Long and slow;
'Twas not the spear
of Treacherous foe;
But sudden passing from drought and heat
To death sleep, calm, and still, and sweet.
Across the plain where shadows creep
Around the beds of those who sleep,
He lies in stillness- all silent now,
The sunlight shaded from off his brow.
Could better resting-place be found
For one whose life was barely crowned
By manhood ? Think not of the pain,
Or brow that throbbed and throbbed again!
...
Young, and blithe, and gay;
Slight, and small of limb;
Busy, till the birds
Sang their evening hymn:
Lying now across the plain.
Ne'er to suffer death again!
A.K.D.
The Queenslander (15 August 1885)
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