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His Son

But twelve short years you lived, my son,
Just twelve short years, and then you died:
And now your life's brief course is run,
This grave a father's hopes doth hide.

Darkness

But that from slow dissolving pomps of dawn
No verity of slowly strengthening light
Early or late hath issued; but that the day,
Scarce-shown, relapses rather, self-withdrawn,
Back to the glooms of antenatal night,
For this, O human beings, mourn we may.

Army Ballad

The bugle blows, setting the marchers moving,
A grumbling hubbub as the soldiers rise.
Fifes screech, a tumult of neighing horses
As they struggle to ford the Golden River.
Sunset at the edge of a great desert,
Sounds of battle within the dust and mist.
Having bound up the necks of all the famous chieftains,
They return to report to the emperor.

A Song

In the north there is a lovely woman,
Beyond compare, unique.
One glance destroys a man's city,
A second glance destroys a man's kingdom.
Would you rather not know a city and kingdom destroyer?
Such beauty you won't find twice!