Classic Poem

O he was very handsome
When he went to the war—
His eyes would haunt an angel—
They'll haunt the pure no more.
He's sleeping out to-night beside
The old road to the Rhine,
From me who should have been his bride,
My Soldier Libertine.

I hope they shot the brute before
He looked in French girls' eyes;
I like to think that he went pure
From me to Paradise,
Or to the Hell he strove to win
Through women, lies and wine,
And all the girls he led to sin,
My Soldier Libertine.

I hope a bullet set him free
From all his lofty pride,
And he had time to think of me
In pain before he died:
I hope they did not mangle him—
He was so tall and fine—
I never saw his eyes grow dim—
My Soldier Libertine.

And he hath left a son behind
Beneath the Southern skies,
Perhaps to grow with Satan's mind
And angel-haunting eyes.
And he hath left a bonny girl,
His bonny girl and mine,
Perchance to fall as once I fell,
My Soldier Libertine.

His heart was like to Satan's
Before he went to war;
His eyes would haunt an angel—
They'll haunt the good no more.
He's sleeping far away beside
The old road to the Rhine,
Who ne'er kept faith with any bride—
My Soldier Libertine.