Lines in Pleasant Places Rhythmics of many moods and quantities. Wise and otherwise |
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[A blue coat!—ah, my country's uniform!] |
 | Lines in Pleasant Places |  |
[A blue coat!—ah, my country's uniform!]
A blue coat!—ah, my country's uniform!Here is a relic of the battle-storm—
A wounded soldier. Gallantly he stood
Where fire and death raged round him like a flood.
Not scathless, though; the deadly missiles flew,
And stamped with martyrdom his courage true.
No more for him the dulcet strain will sound:
To lead him through the mazy's giddy round;
No more the agile foot will music beat
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No more on eager errands will he speed
At call of love, or call of human need.
But proud his mien, escaped from war's alarms,
Who legless stands and impor-tunes for alms.
An empty sleeve is badge of honor more
Than its stout wearer e'er enjoyed before—
A hero's glory, speaking like a trump,
Just like a politician, from the stump;
Eloquently pleading with his whole-limbed brother,
The while an organ-crank he turns with t'other.
| Lines in Pleasant Places | |