Behold! I’m old; my hair is white… My eighty years are in the offing, And sitting by the fire to—night I sip a grog to ease my coughing. It’s true I’m raucous as a rook,

Somehow the skies don’t seem so bl… As they used to be; Blossoms have a fainter hue, Grass less green I see. There’s no twinkle in a star,

Oh, it is good to drink and sup, And then beside the kindly fire To smoke and heap the faggots up, And rest and dream to heart’s desi… Oh, it is good to ride and run,

It isn’t the foe that we fear; It isn’t the bullets that whine; It isn’t the business career Of a shell, or the bust of a mine; It isn’t the snipers who seek

He stared at me with sad, hurt eye… That drab, untidy man; And though my clients I despise I do the best I can To comfort them with cheerful chat…

That Tom was poor was sure a pity… Such guts for learning had the lad… He took to Greek like babe to tit… And he was mathematic mad. I loved to prime him up with knowl…

I sing no idle songs of dalliance… No dreams Elysian inspire my rhym… I have no Celia to enchant my lay… No pipes of Pan have set my heart… I am no wordsmith dripping gems di…

A prisoner speaks: Majority of twenty—three, I face the Judge with joy and gle… For am I not a lucky chap — No more hanging, no more cap;

Oh Julie Claire was very fair, Yet generous as well, And many a lad of metal had A saucy tale to tell Of sultry squeeze beneath the tree…

Full fifty merry maids I heard One summer morn a—singing; And each was like a joyous bird With spring—clear not a—ringing. It was an old—time soldier song

The poppies that in Spring I sow, In rings of radiance gleam and glo… Like lords and ladies gay. A joy are they to dream beside, As in the air of eventide

Hot digitty dog! Now, ain’t it qu… I’ve been abroad for over a year; Seen a helluva lot since then, Killed, I reckon, a dozen men; Six was doubtful, but six was sure…

What are we fighting for, We fellows who go to war? fighting for Freedom’s sake! (You give me the belly—ache.) Freedom to starve or slave!

You talk o’ prayer an’ such — Well, I jest don’t know how; I guess I got as much Religion as a cow. I fight an’ drink an’ swear;

Rhyme—Smith Oh, I was born a lyric babe (That last word is a bore — It’s only rhyme is astrolabe," Whose meaning I ignore.)