Have only left a picture on
the wall
I hear the press of eager feet
upon my parlor floor,
a moment and my willing arms
enclasp my boy once more.
I feel his warm breath on my cheek,
but when his name I call,
A shadowy finger points me
to his picture on the wall
Among the brave and loyal,
how many loved ones fall
Whose friends bereft
have only left a picture on
the wall
The moon's full radiance
struggles through,
And lights my room once more.
And thus shall heaven, O heart of mine,
Thy seeming loss restore.
Its light shall gild the present bloom,
And sweeter spells enthrall then that which binds
me to the sweet true picture on the wall
among the brave and loyal
how many loved ones fall
whose friends bereft
have only left a picture on the wall
among the brave and loyal,
how many loved ones fall,
whose friends bereft,
have only left a picture on the wall.