VIII

Farewell to Barn and Stack and Tree

“Farewell to barn and stack^[1] and tree,
Farewell to Severn^[2] shore.
Terence, look your last at me,
For I come home no more.

“The sun burns on the half-mown hill,
By now the blood is dried;
And Maurice amongst the hay lies still
And my knife is in his side.

“My mother thinks us long away;
‘Tis time the field were mown.
She had two sons at rising day,
To-night she’ll be alone.

“And here’s a bloody hand to shake,
And oh, man, here’s good-bye;
We’ll sweat no more on scythe and rake,
My bloody hands and I.

“I wish you strength to bring you pride,
And a love to keep you clean,
And I wish you luck, come Lammastide^[3],
At racing on the green.

“Long for me the rick^[4] will wait,
And long will wait the fold,
And long will stand the empty plate,
And dinner will be cold.”

— 1896