When the grass was closely mown, <br />Walking on the lawn alone, <br />In the turf a hole I found <br />And hid a soldier underground. <br /> <br />Spring and daisies came apace; <br />Grasses hid my hiding-place; <br />Grasses run like a green sea <br />O'er the lawn up to my knee. <br /> <br />Under grass alone he lies, <br />Looking up with leaden eyes, <br />Scarlet coat and pointed gun, <br />To the stars and to the sun. <br /> <br />When the grass is ripe like grain, <br />When the scythe is stoned again, <br />When the lawn is shaven clear, <br />Then my hole shall reappear. <br /> <br />I shall find him, never fear, <br />I shall find my grenadier; <br />But, for all that's gone and come, <br />I shall find my soldier dumb. <br /> <br />He has lived, a little thing, <br />In the grassy woods of spring; <br />Done, if he could tell me true, <br />Just as I should like to do. <br /> <br />He has seen the starry hours <br />And the springing of the flowers; <br />And the fairy things that pass <br />In the forests of the grass. <br /> <br />In the silence he has heard <br />Talking bee and ladybird, <br />And the butterfly has flown <br />O'er him as he lay alone. <br /> <br />Not a word will he disclose, <br />Not a word of all he knows. <br />I must lay him on the shelf, <br />And make up the tale myself.<br /><br />Robert Louis Stevenson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-dumb-soldier/
