O had I died when o'er the sullen plain
The harsh light drifted and the roaring guns
Lifted their voices summoning amain
Youth from its joy in storms and flying suns
And happy comradeship of weathered men,
All had been as in purpose due and well,
Honourable my service had been then
And honoured the blank spot on which I fell.
But now--O heart!--how much dishonoured I,
And by my own hand too--twice bitter case--
My true love stained with secret infamy,
My treachery disguised by friendship's face,
And that bare passion bade me forth to die
Fouled to the instrument of my disgrace!