Classic Poem

They say my warrior now no more
Can come again to me;
He sleeps upon a foreign shore,
Or deep beneath the sea:
But how can I believe it true?
Can I have prayed in vain
That he might fight his battles through,
And come in joy again?

My younger friends all crowd around
And smile, and sing, and say,
A little mirth will heal my wound,
And drive my grief away.
But in the ball, and at the play,
My warrior haunts me still,
I cannot drive my grief away,
I sigh against my will.