A Warriors Lament

Did ye think bold warrior,
When ye kissed your mothers brow,
The only kiss your lifeless form,
The sleeping stars allow,
In childhood days,when jested thou,
A playfull fight, with broken bough,
How quickly bough converts to sword....
And who is jesting now?

Who would have thought thy childish games,
In manhood drained thy fire filled veins,
And pierced thy heart, like hunger pangs,
Cruel memory of homely lands.

Aye, times were hard when thou wast young,
But time has past, thy life was long,
Long enough to end that life,
By slashing sword and jeweled knife.

It matters not thy silent tongue,
Has issued forth no freedom song,
Or that thou never learned to laugh,
Let silence be thy epitaph.

Olias