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The Death the Soldier Dies

From the Newark Evening Star, October 5, 1914. By Robert Burns Wilson.

Such is the death the soldier dies;
    He falls, the column speeds away;
Upon the dabbled grass he lies,
    His brave heart following still, the fray.

The smoke wreaths drift among the trees,
    The battle storms along the hill;
The glint of distant arms he sees,
    He hears his comrades shouting still.

A glimpse of far-borne flags, that fade
    And vanish in the roiling din;
He knows the sweeping charge is made,
    The cheering lines are closing in.

Unmindful of his mortal wound,
    He faintly calls and seeks to rise;
But weakness drags him to the ground.
    Such is the death the soldier dies.

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