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Katharine Tynan - The Last Question: (For B. A. Bingham)
Work rating: Low

They lifted up his weary head,
     Stained with a dark and bitter dew:
"How does the battle go?" he said.

Sir, it is victory," -- when he heard
     He smiled the darkening shadows through
And died as blithe as a singing bird.

On the stained grass as on a bed
     Dying he lay and well content --
"Sir, it is victory," they said.

So smiling, smiling all the way,
     To the undying Dead he went
As to a heavenly holiday.
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