Dermot
Freyer .
By
the
lonely
lake,
By the
slopes
of
timber,
Rough
roads shall
quake
To the
guns
in
limber.
Ere the
leaf
shall
fall,
Ere
the dark
woods
lighten ,
At the
red
earth 's call
Brave
bones
shall
whiten .
And many
a
lass
Shall wait
her
lover,
Cold
in
the grass
Where
the
vultures hover .