Clash, clash goes the sabre against my steed’s side,
Kling, kling go the rowels, as onward I ride;
And all my bright harness is living and speaks,
And under my horseshoes the frosty ground creaks;
I wave my buff glove to the girl whom I love,
Then join my dark squadron, and forward I move.
The foe, all secure, has lain down by his gun;
I’ll open his eyelids before the bright sun.
I burst on his pickets; they scatter, they fly;
Too late they awaken,—’t is only to die.
Now the torch to their camp; I’ll make it a lamp,
As back to my quarters so slowly I tramp.
Kiss, kiss me, my darling! your lover is here.
Nay, kiss off the smoke-stains; keep back that bright tear;
Keep back that bright tear till the day when I come,
To the low wailing fife and deep muffled drum,
With a bullet half through this bosom so true,
To die, as I ought, for my country and you.
(George Henry Boker)
More Poetry from George Henry Boker:
George Henry Boker Poems based on Topics: Love, Kiss, Romantic Love, Speaking- Vestigia Retrorsum (George Henry Boker Poems)
- The Crossing At Fredericksbu (George Henry Boker Poems)
- Tardy George (George Henry Boker Poems)
- March Along (George Henry Boker Poems)
- The Black Regiment (George Henry Boker Poems)
- Ad Poetas (George Henry Boker Poems)
Readers Who Like This Poem Also Like:
Based on Topics: Love Poems, Speaking Poems, Kiss Poems, Romantic Love PoemsBased on Keywords: buff, pickets, creaks, rowels, horseshoes, kling, awaken-