Poems (Mary Coleridge)/Poem 145

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CXLV ON A SOLDIER WHO DIED OF ILLNESS
Give him his martial honours, for he foughtA harder foe than man, and ne'er betrayedThe trust upon him laid;Nay, not so much as by a rebel thought.
Not where the golden hope of glory lured,Not on the field of fame he fought and fell.But he endured right well;Yea, as a soldier should, he silently endured.

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