Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image

FOUR EYE SHEAVES.

Four rye sheaves to be my bed; < "Now^God me save," .was the prayer I said;'......'. And sweet was the sleep, that .came to me, For I. was home where I fain would be; Ami sweet was the dream that sleep did yield, ... A flowering bank, and a daisied field; A lovers' lane and a winsome maid— but I never'heard the word she said; I never heard what word she spoke, For the'bugle was blown and I-owoke. Four rye sheaves to be my bod — But.where this night may 1 lay my head? Four rye sheaves to be my bed — '. Will 6he come with that word if I am dead ? —Sergt. Joseph Lee, Black Watch. The Spectator.

This article text was automatically generated and may include errors. View the full page to see article in its original form.
Permanent link to this item

https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/EP19170224.2.174.1

Bibliographic details

Evening Post, Volume XCIII, Issue 48, 24 February 1917, Page 16

Word Count
118

FOUR EYE SHEAVES. Evening Post, Volume XCIII, Issue 48, 24 February 1917, Page 16

FOUR EYE SHEAVES. Evening Post, Volume XCIII, Issue 48, 24 February 1917, Page 16