Classic Poem

When the green was on the bough,
Billy Bishop left the plough,
Left his sweetheart, Ellen Lee,
In her cottage by the sea,
Left his mother, old and grey,
In her building on the brea.

Billy grasp'd the soldier's blade
Where the game of war was play'd,
Cruel game with blood and strife,
Loss of limb and loss of life:
Felt he here the fangs of woe,
Fell he by the foeman's blow.

Billy with the wounded lay
Suffering much for many a day;
Rose he then, cross'd field and stile,
Resting on his crutch the while,
Till he reach'd his cottage door
Sad and lonely on the moor.

But no mother could he see;
Slept she 'neath the churchyard tree,
And dear Ellen Lee was dead;
Daisies on her grave were spread,
And the last faint word that came
Whisper'd she her Billy's name.

This was told him. Low bent he,
Cried, " Have mercy, Lord, on me; "
Wiped the tears away with pain,
Hobbling down the narrow lane. —
Hark! the church bells fill the glade,
Billy Bishop's grave is made.