He came when the war was ended,
From camp and battle-field,
Home, to be gently tended,
His heavy wound half-healed.
After the joy of meeting
With its mingled pain had passed,
Peace, with a holy greeting,
Kissed all our lips at last.

But when on her stay we reckoned,
A sad farewell she breathed,
And rose and softly beckoned
To him whose sword was sheathed.
He laid him down meek-hearted,
We filled his breast with flowers;
Our hero had departed
To a surer peace than ours.