The New Roof

On the heather-thatch the rain
Fell unheard the whole night long;
And no sound came through the dark
Save the flooded Cawburn's song.

On the fine new iron roof,
Patter, patter falls the rain,
Till it seems as though each drop
Drums upon my aching brain.

As I lie and wonder where,
Wakeful too, my soldier lies
'Neath the deadly leaden rain
Falling from the foreign skies.
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