What the bullet sang

O Joy of creation,
......To be!
O rapture, to fly
......And be free!
Be the battle lost or won,
Though its smoke shall hide the sun,
I shall find my love--the one
......Born for me!

I shall know him where he stands
......All alone,
With the power in his hands
......Not e'erthrown;
I shall know him by his face,
By his godlike front and grace;
I shall hold him for a space
......All my own!


.....from What the Bullet sang by Bret Hart (1836-1902)