The French Marshal

Macmahon up the street of Paris came, In triumph from Magenta; every one Had heard and praised the fearless marshal's name, And gloried in the deeds that he had done. Crowds packed the walks, and at each pane of glass A face was set to see the hero pass.

Grand music lifted in the morning air Its eloquent voice; loud-mouthed bells were rung; Guns boomed till echoes welcomed everywhere; On buildings and in streets the French flag hung, And, of a breeze, like fortune, made the toy, Thrilled every heart with patriotic joy.

He seemed more like an angel than a man, As, father-like, he paid back each caress; Better than all his deeds in war's red van Appeared this simple act of tenderness. The people cried "Huzza!" and did not pause Until the town seemed shaken with applause.