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daughter poem

she limps with halting painful pace
a little peach in the orchard grew
a very remarkable history this is
daughter, thou art come to die
she heard the children playing in the sun
i know not where
beneath the warrior's helm
sing again the song you sung
last midnight
along the banks
within this lowly grave a conqueror lies
but i cannot read you now
i am singing to you

 



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