Lad of My Heart

Lad of my Heart—for you I am lonely,

And drear are the hills tho they say they are green.

‘Tis a sad lass I am with loving you only,

Will you never come back to your Irish colleen?

Lad of my Heart—that day I remember,

When out of the town with the soldiers away,

You marched to the war in the early September,

And left me to fight, while I left you to pray.

Lad of my Heart—do you hear my love calling?

You that’s been gone this many a day.

Lad of my love—do you see my tears falling?

Waiting for you in the dusk of the May.

Lad of my Heart—I have your last letter,

Ever I’ll keep it held close to my breast;

For the pain deep within it seems to make better,

And the stain that’s upon it my lips oft have pressed.

Lad of my Heart—I still hear you speaking,

“Molly Aroon, shure now try to be brave.”

And fondly, with love, your lips mine were seeking,

Lad of my Heart, Oh where is your grave?

Somewhere in France—lad of mine, you are lying

And never again will we tryst on the sod;

But we’ll meet in the dawn, where there’s no more of sighing,

Lad of my Heart, for I know you’re with God.

-       T. A. Browne[1]

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[1] Born in London in 1826, Thomas Alexander Browne was raised in Sydney, Australia. His father, an East India Company ship captain, settled his family there after delivering a load of convicts. Thomas attended Sydney College, traveled, and became a gentleman. He spent 25 years as a squatter, and about the same amount of time as a government official—including police magistrate, goldfields commissioner, and justice of the peace—but during all this time he also wrote. His mother, he maintained, was his first and most influential critic. Thomas often used the pen-name Rolf Boldrewood. In 1888 he produced his most popular work, the novel Robbery under Arms. He died in 1915, so the above poem, obviously dealing with the Great War, may have been one of his last.  (Source: Wikipedia)