458 The Hunting Grounds 



For one all loved lay on the deck, 



Who never would rise more ; 

 His eyes were fix'd on that dark speck 



They said was England's shore. 

 His brow was chill all pain was past 



Tears stood in every eye ; 

 The shades of death were gathering fast 



His time was come to die. 



His heart was in his father's hall, 



He fancied friends were nigh ; 

 At times he 'd on his mother call, 



And bid her not to sigh. 

 We heard him try to breathe the prayer 



Which she perchance had taught : 

 Veterans wept as they stood there, 



With whom that boy had fought. 



The night closed round a mournful wail 



Was heard along the deep ; 

 To all on board it told the tale 



Our friend had sunk to sleep. 

 Bright morning broke the fresh'ning breeze 



Our good ship onward bore ; 

 We saw the cliffs and stately trees 



Of dear Old England's shore. 



The anchor fell with grating sound, 



Our perils now were o'er, 

 And dear ones greet the homeward-bound 



They 'd thought to see no more. 

 Friends crowded round : one hale old man 



Gazed on with troubled air ; 

 Each soldier's face he seemed to scan, 



But no one knew him there. 



