"But leave it to drill and manhood,
Amen. In God's name come on."
So Leopold Anhalt Dessau,
His last battle fought and won.
And the King rescued from danger,
By the victory that day,
Lighted from his horse to greet him,
Clad in his roquelaure grey
Bowed low to him as a master
In all the warrior's art,
And then, as a friend in greeting,
Pressed the hero to his heart
Now his sword rests in the scabbard,
He has done for aye with war,
For Leopold Anhalt Dessau,
Now sleeps with the sons of Thor.
MARY'S DEATH
Mary, ah me! gentle Mary,
Can it be you're lying there,
Pale and still, and cold as marble,
You that was so young and fair.
Seemeth it as yestereven,
When the golden autumn smiled,
On our meeting, gentle Mary,
You were then a very child.
Busy fingers, flitting footsteps,
Never resting all day long;
Shy and bashful, and the sweet voice
Ever breaking into song
Always gentle, kind and thoughtful,
Blameless and so free from art,
'Twas no wonder one so lovely
Found a place within my heart.
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