Poems by George Meredith--Volume 1
CHILLIANWALLAH
Chillanwallah, Chillanwallah!
Where our brothers fought and bled,
O thy name is natural music
And a dirge above the dead!
Though we have not been defeated,
Though we can't be overcome,
Still, whene'er thou art repeated,
I would fain that grief were dumb.
Chillianwallah, Chillianwallah!
'Tis a name so sad and strange,
Like a breeze through midnight harpstrings
Ringing many a mournful change;
But the wildness and the sorrow
Have a meaning of their own -
Oh, whereof no glad to-morrow
Can relieve the dismal tone!
Chillianwallah, Chillianwallah!
'Tis a village dark and low,
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