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 o'erthrown; 
I shall know him by his face, 
By his godlike front and grace; 
I shall hold him for a space 
 All my own! 

It is he--O my love! 
 So bold! 
It is I--all thy love 
 Foretold! 
It is I--O love, what bliss! 
Dost thou answer to my kiss? 
O sweetheart! what is this 
 Lieth there so cold?

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