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  A Soldier's Dream  
 

Lying here in my lonely cot

I listen to the night

Still and silent as the grave

Yet alert with nerves drawn tight.

A ceiling beam creaks overhead

Then a floor joist down below,

A cat calls out with mournful cry

Was it not always so?

The wind, it rises and plays a tune

Through chimney, wainscot, door.

An eerie, melancholy dirge

I've heard many time before.

It accompanies the Great Reaper

As he goes about his task,

Is that bell he tolls, for me?

A question best not to ask!

Lying here in my lonely cot

I asked, "Do'st thou toll the bell for me?"

The Reaper scowled, but passed me by

There was others he had to see.

And so I survived another night

In this dusty Crimean ward,

A wounded soldier, awaiting death

And my place beneath greensward. 

 

 

 

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