I Hear It Yet

soul—the perfect faith which inspired his devotion, and the perfect love which precluded fear—these were the gifts and graces which rendered him worthy of leaning his young head on the bosom of his Lord." I HEAR IT YET. I hear it yet, that bugle-note, Far down our peaceful valley float; And 'tis the self-same mournful blast They blew the very day My love upon me look'd his last, And went away. Again it peals—so wild a strain Were fitter for the battle-plain: Alas! 'tis thence indeed it comes, Mix'd with the cannon's roar, And maddening shouts, and deafening drums, Heard evermore! No marvel they should haunt me still, In sadness, wander where I will, These notes, to love's last deep adieu, So closely, darkly bound: No marvel if all senses grew Absorbed in sound. wo! his was a bloody bed! With Spain's far earth beneath his head, Not one to watch by him, and mourn, Not one to say, farewell! But that heart-breaking bugle-horn, And battle's swell! Kennedy.