The Cornflower, and Other Poems

"Ho! you'll know when we come marching home,
For you'll hear our pipers playing."

Oh, the bonniest lads in kilt and hose —
Braver men, you cannot find them —
And few, so few, came marching home
To the loved ones left behind them.

'Twas a loyal heart, and a strong right arm,
With a stubborn foe before them;
A soldier's grave in a far off land,
And God's blue sky bending o'er them.

As I hearkened to sweet old martial airs
I could hear my brother saying:
"Ho! you'll know when we come marching home,
For you'll hear our pipers playing."

There are only harps in heaven, I'm told,
And maybe I shouldn't say it,
For a harp of gold's a wondrous thing
In a hand that's skilled to play it.

But those highland lads, 'twas the pibroch's call
They heard morning, noon, and even,
And the pibroch's call, I believe in my heart,
They will hear in the streets of heaven.

They marched to the old belovèd airs
'Mid the bullets' hail and rattle;
'Twas the last sweet sound that fell on their ears
'Mid the clamor and clang of battle.

O a harp when an angel strikes the strings
Is softer and sweeter, but try
As I will, I cannot fancy a harp
In the hands of, say, Peter MacKay.

And were an angel to proffer him one,
Methinks I can hear him saying:
"'Twas not on an instrument like the same
That Pete MacKay will be playing,

"For she neffer set eyes on it before,
Isn't quick to learn, or cleffer;
She'd break the strings if she took it in hand,
She couldn't do it, whateffer.

"So please be excusing old Pete MacKay —
But hark! bring the chanter to me,
I'll play the 'March o' the Cameron Men,'
And afterward 'Bonnie Dundee.'"

I told this to Donald late that night;
He said, as he sipped his toddy,
"Do ye ken ye shocked the elder the night?
Yersel' is the doited body.

"And are ye speaking o' bagpipes in Heaven?
Ah, Christy, I'm that astoonded
I'll hae the guid meenister speak tae ye,
For, Christy, ye're no weel groonded."

Well, if it is heresy to believe
In the promise of the Father,
"Eye hath not seen, ear hath not heard,"
I am heretical, rather.

I believe when the last loud trump shall sound,
The old flag again unfurling,
My highland lads will come marching home
To the bagpipes grandly skirling.

THE STABLE-BOY'S GUEST

The Wise Men came to the inn that night,
"Now open to us," they cried,
"We have journeyed far that we might kneel
To One who doth here abide."

The door was opened with eager haste.
"Of whom do ye come in quest?
Can it be that a lord of high degree
Is with us this night as guest?"

The Wise Men answered: "The eastern sky
Is luminous still, and clear,
With the radiance of a golden star
That hath led our footsteps here.

"Blessed, O keeper, this inn of thine,
Both thatch and foundation stone,
For the open door and hearth-fire warm
When the King came to His own!"

"The King! the King!" loud the keeper's cry,
"The King in this house of mine!
Lights ho! lights ho! set the place aglow,
Bring forth the meat and the wine!