اصل بول
ENترجمہ ابھی دستیاب نہیں۔ اصل بول دکھائے جا رہے ہیں۔
Full of grief, the low winds sweep
O'er the sorrow-haunted ground
Dark the woods where night rains weep
Dark the hills that watch around
Tell me, can the joys of spring
Ever make this sadness flee
Make the woods with music ring
And the streamlet laugh for glee?
Sad shall it be, though sun be shed
Golden bright on field and flood
E'en the heather's crimson red
Holds the memory of blood
Noble dead that sleep below
We your valour ne'er forget
Soft the heroes' rest who know
Hearts like theirs are beating yet
