The Game of War
Tin sword in hand and paper cap
Aslant your tousled head,
You play at soldier all the day
Until I snatch you from the fray
And carry you to bed.
A sword beside your strong white hand —
You lie so still, my son! —
A crimson stain upon your breast,
Closed eyes, at last a little rest.
The game is done.
Aslant your tousled head,
You play at soldier all the day
Until I snatch you from the fray
And carry you to bed.
A sword beside your strong white hand —
You lie so still, my son! —
A crimson stain upon your breast,
Closed eyes, at last a little rest.
The game is done.
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