We came upon him sitting in the sun, Blinded by war, and left. And past the fence There came young soldiers from the Hand and Flower, Asking advice of his experience. And he said this, and that, and told them tales, And all the nightmares of each empty head Blew into air; then, hearing us beside, "Poor chaps, how'd they know what it's like?" he said. And we stood there, and watched him as he sat, Turning his sockets where they went away, Until it came to one of us to ask "And you're -- how old?" "Nineteen, the third of May." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ASOLANDO: NOW by ROBERT BROWNING WALT WHITMAN by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) NEW YORK CITY by MAXWELL BODENHEIM ON THE NEW YEAR by JANE BOWDLER DREAMS: ON THE HUNTING GROUND by DANIEL CHAUNCEY BREWER GOLDFISH ON THE WRITING DESK by MAX BROD THE MOTHER by GEORGE HERBERT CLARKE |