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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=408096" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Little Major</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">At his post, the &quot;Little Major&quot;<br>Dropp'd his drum, that battle-day;<br>On the grass, all stain'd with crimson,<br>Through that battle-night he lay--<br>Crying &quot;Oh! for love of Jesus,<br>Grant me but this little boon!<br>Can you, friend, refuse me water?<br>Can you, when I die so soon?&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Crying &quot;Oh! for love of Jesus,<br>Grant me but this little boon!<br>Can you, friend, refuse me water?<br>Can you, when I die so soon?&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">They are none to hear or help him--<br>All his friends were early fled,<br>Save the forms, outstrech'd around him,<br>Of the dying and the dead.<br>Hush--they come! there falls a footstep!<br>How it makes his heart rejoice!<br>They will help, Oh, they will save him,<br>When they hear his fainting voice--</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now the lights are flashing round him,<br>And he hears a loyal word,<br>Strangers they, whose lips pronouce it,<br>Yet he trusts his voice is heard.<br>It is heard--Oh, God forgive them!<br>They refuse his dying pray'r!<br>&quot;Nothing but a wounded drummer,&quot;<br>So they say, and leave him there--</div><div style="margin:10px 0">See! the moon that shone above him,<br>Veils her face, as if in grief;<br>And the skies are sadly weeping--<br>Shielding teardrops of relief.<br>Yet to die, by friends forsaken,<br>With his last request denied--<br>This he felt his keenest anquish,<br>When at morn, he gasp'd and died--</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Henry+Clay+Work">Henry Clay Work</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=408096" data-title="Little Major de Henry Clay Work" data-description="At his post, the &quot;Little Major&quot;
Dropp'd his drum, that battle-day;
On the grass, all stain'd with crimson,
Through that battle-night he lay--
Crying &quot;Oh! for love of Jesus,
Grant me but this little boon!
Can you, friend, refuse me w..."></div>
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