SHE stands alone beside the gate,

Where oft with him she stood before,

And seems to hear his voice relate

Life's sweetest story o'er and o'er;

A hand she feels upon her own,

Unconsciously a tender glance

She gives, then starts and stands alone,

The lover sleeps--Somewhere in France.

She could have kept him if she would--

His heart and soul were all her own--

But true love knew and understood

That Honor is its own true throne;

She heard the bugles' blaring sound

And whispered--"Go and take your chance."

There 'mid the scenes of war he found

Eternal peace--Somewhere in France.

She knows not where that spot may be--

On barren plain, in hidden dell,

On wooded hill, beside the sea--

The lips that would will never tell;

She knows not what his last words were.

The thoughts that come with Death's advance,

And yet, she feels they were of her,

Those last fond thoughts--Somewhere in France.