Hail and Farewell

The destined bullet wounded him,
They brought him down to die,
Far-off a bugle sounded him
“Retreat,” Good-bye.

Strange, that from ways so hated,
And tyranny so hard
Should come this strangely fated
And farewell word.

He thought, “Some Old Sweat might
Have thrilled at heart to hear,
Gone down into the night
Too proud to fear!

But I--the fool at arms,
Musician, poet to boot,
Who hail release; what charms
In this salute?”

He smiled--“The latest jest
That time on me shall play.”
And watched the dying west,
Went out with the day.