Letting Go Early
It was on a weary day
In the midst of merry May
The only thing he thought to say
Was "Katara, I pray,
"I pray you won't forget this night
Though to you it is a blight
On freedom's faithful fearless fight
That we should see in such a light."
Her eyes, azure and torn
Widened – open and forlorn.
He thought she meant to scorn
But in them, hope was born.
"So you think the same as I,"
The girl's soft and sweet reply
Seemed meant to make him cry
Though tears long had passed them by.
"It's true," he told her, sighing,
"But the night is quickly dying.
It's best you turn to flying,
And I, back to lying."
"We could tell them!" she pleaded.
"The fear has long receded.
If they knew how much you're needed…"
"Think how I'll be treated."
His voice was sure and strong,
Though he wished he could be wrong,
And as he bade the girl so long,
He whispered her a song.
"Little soldier boy, come marching home,
Brave soldier boy, comes marching home."
He turns away, ready to roam,
Leaving his lover there alone.
A/n: Think about the song for a second before you denounce its importance. Interpret how you wish.