A SOLDIER, though way-worn and weary From the tiresome march of the day, Steadily toils till the wee sma' hours, Painfully stitching away. His thoughts are with Nell and the children, As his needle he patiently plies, Darning great rents in his trousers, While tear drops are dimming his eyes. His comrades are sleeping around him And peacefully dreaming of home, Of the time when the war will be ended And no longer they sadly will roam. He nods, keeping time with his needle That sailor-like goes in and out, And the rents in the trousers are mended When he hears a far sentinel shout. "To arms, boys, the foe is advancing!" The soldiers respond to the call. In a twinkling the camp is confusion, As they hasten to conquer or fall. "Howly Moses, my breeches, who's got 'em?" Swears Mike, at the vexing delay, "Arrah, here's the spalpeen I'm afther," And jerks the @3darned trousers@1 away. Ah, sadder than war is the story— That soldier so weary and worn, Had mended the Corporal's trousers, While his own remained ragged and torn. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ANOTHER GRACE FOR A CHILD by ROBERT HERRICK ARIEL'S SONG (1) [OR, DIRGE] [OR, A SEA DIRGE]. FR. THE TEMPEST by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE GRAY MOOD by MARJORIE AKERMAN B. IN THAT DAY by ARTHUR CHRISTOPHER BENSON A PASTORAL OF PHILLIS AND CORYDON by NICHOLAS BRETON LINCOLN (1) by THOMAS CURTIS CLARK LOVE'S FRANCISCAN by HENRY CONSTABLE |